


When Legends Rise

by Herald_of_Dreams



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Albus Dumbledore bashing (mentioned), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad Ministry of Magic, Don't post off-site without permission, F/M, Gen, HP plothole fixed, I mean it's Tony Stark, M rating mostly for language, M/M, MCU shenanigans, Molly Weasley Bashing (mentioned), NaNoWriMo 2019, Natasha's awesome, Nick is Kingsley's older brother, Possible Mpreg - Readers Decision, Possibly OOC, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Ron Weasley Bashing, Steve gets better, Team Tony, Tony deserves better, altered HP events, first MCU fic, trying not to bash characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-01-23 17:07:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 59,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21323677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Herald_of_Dreams/pseuds/Herald_of_Dreams
Summary: April 28th, 2015. The Avengers work together again, going to the small country of Sokovia to retrieve the scepter from HYDRA, kicking off the events of Age of Ultron. A prisoner uses their arrival as a distraction and escapes, wreaking havoc. It turns out the prisoner is Harry Potter, wizard extraordinaire and Tony Stark's fiance, missing for almost five years.Of course Tony's not going to leave him there, and Steve Rogers can stuff his concerns.Planning to take this through Infinity War and a much-changed Endgame, unless I end things with Infinity War.Don't like this type of thing? The author doesn't mind if you scroll right on by...
Relationships: Bruce Banner/Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy/Luna Lovegood, James Rhodes/Pepper Potts, Tony Stark/Harry Potter
Comments: 417
Kudos: 3093
Collections: Best Harry Potter Crossovers, Best Marvel Crossovers, Emmikus best finds on ao3, Harry Potter Cross-over fics, Harry Potter Crossovers, Marvel Verse FF, Most Favs, Tony oriented fics





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a song by the band Godsmack. Lyrics are:  
'It's burning down, it's burning high  
When ashes fall the legends rise  
We burned it out oh my oh why  
When ashes fall the legends rise'
> 
> I own nothing in this story. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros., Marvel belongs to Disney and the late, great Stan Lee, the song belongs to the band Godsmack and their recording company. I am writing this story for fun, not for any form of profit.
> 
> This will probably have rapid updates for a while as it's my NaNoWriMo fic for 2019.
> 
> NOTE: no timelines have been altered up to now. According to the MCU timeline explanation I found and the Wiki, Tony Stark was born May 29th, 1970, which makes him 10 years and two months older than Harry. Not really a big difference.

_A waking nightmare._

He’d heard of them but never experienced one himself, at least not of this kind. He’d been living one for the past four years, but that was another story entirely. Brown eyes blinked and he shook his head to clear his thoughts. Those memories were not for here, not now. Anthony ‘Tony’ Stark stood contemplating the scepter in front of him, studying it. Meanwhile doing his best to shake the remnants of what had felt more like a vision than a nightmare.

A staff of solid gold, smooth and graceful looking, with a deadly curved blade framing a glowing blue stone. He hadn’t seen it in a few years, having never assisted S.H.I.E.L.D in their assessment of the foreign object. Now here it was, innocently glowing in a force-field cage in the tiny country of Sokovia. Of course HYDRA had gotten their sticky hands on it, they were buried in every government organization on the planet and then some probably. The scepter had disappeared almost immediately post-New York, much to their resident thunder god’s ire.

About to remove the scepter from its cage, Tony’s headset chimed in his ear. He tapped it with a finger and said, “Stark.”

“Tony, we need your assistance! There’s some kind of fight going on in the room we’re in. They’re not doing any damage but we’re getting caught in the midst of it,” the voice of Steve Rogers piped up in his ear.

Tony gave a slightly exaggerated sigh. “On my way, Rogers. I need to secure the scepter and I’ll head your way.”

He cancelled the call without any further ado, not concerned in the slightest if Rogers’ feathers were ruffled at his lack of manners.

He turned back to the suit still standing in sentry mode and ordered, “JARVIS, send one of our express packages to my location, pronto.”

“Yes sir,” the cool-toned AI replied.

Just a few moments later Tony could hear a roar of rockets and jerked out of the way, just avoiding a tall red and gold capsule that crashed through a window and landed directly where he had been standing. Tony eyed the still-smoking metal warily, taking note of the dent it had punched into the stone floor.

“JARVIS,” he said with a sigh, “I didn’t mean to literally squash me.”

“You did say to your location, sir,” the AI’s reply was almost snide.

Tony sighed, shook his head and stepped forward, tapping a series of keys on a small virtual pin pad that popped up on the side of the capsule. While he was working he muttered about needing to tweak his sarcastic AI, not meaning a word of it. What Tony referred to as his ‘express packages’ were capsules launched via satellite uplink from a forward launch station in Florida on some property he owned. They could be sent anywhere in the world with a few keystrokes or a verbal command to his AI.

He popped open the hatch and cautiously walked over, examining the security system on the scepter. Snorting, he walked over, stepped into the Iron Man armor waiting for him and carefully aimed a repulsor blast at the reinforced cording running from the cage. With an audible crackle the security system overloaded and failed, Tony stepping forward to take the scepter into his gloved hand cautiously. The number of times _he _had warned Tony not to touch possibly cursed objects…

Tony put the scepter into the capsule and closed the door, locking down the system. “Send this to the Quinjet, JARVIS. Set it down next to the plane, not through it, pretty please?”

“Yes sir.”

Once the capsule had launched, Tony flicked down the faceplate on his helmet and rocketed through the same window the capsule had all but destroyed. Once clear of the actual _castle_ HYDRA had been operating out of, he hovered in mid-air, talking again to the AI as he casually shot a few random rockets out of the air. His red and gold suits were like beacons for trouble, but hey, they were _flashy_.

“Link into the team’s earpieces and give me a location.”

“The majority of them are in the building in front of you, sir. There is a lot of heat emissions from the building, based on their signatures there is quite a lot of live weapons fire.”

“Very well,” Tony replied. “Is the roof enforced?”

“No, sir.”

Tony swiftly changed direction and flew rapidly directly towards the roof, firing a single blast from his right hand that blew out a small chunk, weakening the structure and allowing the entire section of the roof to cave in as he sped through. Spotting several HYDRA agents blinking at the sudden invasion of sunlight, he fired a single rocket at a small container next to them and blew the entire party up. It also produced quite a bit of smoke, but his infrared radar informed him there were no other warm bodies behind the smoke.

“Finally decided to join the party, Tony?” Natasha said in his ear.

“Well you know me, can’t miss a party,” Tony replied cheekily. “What’s going on?”

“This fight was already going when we came into the room, though it has grown exponentially,” Natasha said. Tony flicked his eyes in a few directions before finding the red-head in all black expertly taking down a few veteran HYDRA soldiers. He winced in almost sympathy as she kneed one in the groin before slamming his head into a metal railing.

“I’ve been listening to their comms chatter,” she continued, “and it seems that they want the one they’re fighting dead. They keep saying something about him being ‘redundant’.”

“Where is this person?”

“Center of the room, really hard to miss,” Natasha replied.

Tony turned his head as he flew sharply around a corner, avoiding some random gunfire from below. There was a single figure out on a walkway in the middle of the room. His jaw dropped as he realized the mystery figure was floating several heavy objects and flinging them at the HYDRA soldiers. As he watched a smattering of gunfire was returned by a few idiots and they not only failed to even reach the figure, but he seemingly lifted them into mid-air and threw them against the wall.

“Jeez,” Tony muttered, “what’d they do to piss this guy off?”

Natasha snorted; she was still connected through their earpieces. There was a small sound as if from a throat being cleared. Tony frowned, that was JARVIS.

“JARVIS, what was that for?”

“Sir,” the AI began hesitantly, “I’ve been working to clear excess debris and smoke from the camera and running facial recognition software. I’ve come up with a match for him.”

“Who is it?” Tony asked, curious. JARVIS was very rarely so hesitant.

“Sir, it’s Harry.”

Tony about fell out of the air, very thankful for JARVIS’ auto-pilot protocol. He heard the shocked inhale from Natasha. She spoke up, which he was relieved about, it was hard enough to keep himself from crashing and he had a ton of sudden questions.

“JARVIS, how sure are you about it?”

“100%, Miss Romanoff, especially the longer I have to track his face. There is no longer a doubt. The figure at the center of the room is Harry James Potter. I would not recommend approaching him, Miss Romanoff. His magic is… unstable to say the least.”

“Tony figured out how to register that, correct JARVIS?” Natasha inquired, Tony still silent and breathing incredibly hard.

“Yes, would you like me to bring it up?”

“Please? Send it to my headband as well,” Natasha requested.

Tony’s monitor flickered briefly before lighting up in a majority of brilliant red, nearly crimson where it was emanating from the figure highlighted on the screen. The furthest edges were a dark purple. Natasha inhaled in surprise. “God, he’s nearly off the charts.”

“Considering the system was created around Harry it is impressive indeed,” JARVIS said. “Visually analyzing him from this distance is touch and go, but the amount of visible surface injuries is considerable. I imagine he’s not currently in a coherent frame of mind.”

Tony kicked into gear again, brilliant mind whirring at the speed of light. He considered the grid and Natasha’s conversation with the AI before abruptly making up his mind. He turned a sharp right angle and headed for the platform, scanning the walkway for an area with the least amount of HYDRA soldiers. Spotting his best possibility, he shot towards them, hovered and fired a quarter impulse burst from both his feet. The blast knocked two of the five soldiers over the railings outright, staggering the rest. Tony took them out easily, then landed on the cleared section, narrow enough that his Iron Man armor barely fit into the space.

Satisfied that he’d blocked further access from that point, Tony took a moment to brace himself. At that moment the earpiece in his ear dinged incessantly, or at least he finally noticed it. With a sigh, he answered.

“Tony, what do you think you’re doing?” Steve demanded. “He’s taken out half a platoon of HYDRA soldiers, whoever this is. They’ve got a kill order on him and you’re clearing a path?”

“Cap, do me a favor and shut up.” Tony silenced the call abruptly, raising a wrist and temporarily blocking communications from Steve.

“Tony,” Natasha said carefully, “what are you doing?”

“I’m putting the Iron Man in sentry mode and approaching on foot,” Tony replied, as if he was talking about the weather.

“Tony, respectfully, what the hell are you thinking? He could kill you and what do you think that would do to him once he’s conscious of himself again?”

“I know it’s dangerous Natasha,” Tony said, “but there’s no way I’d even get close in a metal suit armed to the teeth. You know as well as I do what his ingrained instinct would scream at him. He’d kill me without a second thought or even a breath of hesitation. I know he probably vaguely recognizes the armor, but it’s changed quite a bit in five years. I’ve got the best chance this way.”

He ended the call and tapped the Arc Reactor, stepping out of the suit. “Sentry mode, JARVIS. Keep those idiots off our backs.”

“Yes sir,” the AI said quietly.

Tony took a deep breath and walked forward, one foot in front of the other. He did his best to keep any hesitation out of his pace, keeping his hands in front of him and at his sides. When he reached the outer ring of the central platform he stopped, visually taking in the sight in front of him.

Black hair normally silky and vibrant was dull and matted slightly, grown from just touching slim but strong shoulders to nearly mid-back. His already pale skin was even paler, slightly gray from exertion. He was bare to the skin to his hips, clad from there down in a ragged and torn pair of shorts that reached near his knee, bare again to his feet.

Around both his wrists and ankles were what appeared to be heavy iron shackles, torn loose from a wall with several chains still attached. There were cuts, burns and sluggishly bleeding old wounds covering his upper body and some on his legs. Normally emerald green eyes were almost black from channeling the sheer amount of raw magical force in the room, tendrils of black hair flowing in a non-existent breeze. His hands were clenched into fists so tight his knuckles were white and his jaw rigidly locked.

Tony took in a deep breath and stepped forward, putting himself right into the maelstrom of raw magic. He felt it suddenly slam into his body and then wrap around it, a sense of heat and tingling on his skin. Tony inhaled several deep breaths, forcing himself to relax. _Harry would never hurt you,_ he reassured himself. He took another step forward, still too far away for Harry to hear him. Privately he was congratulating himself on making it this close, Harry’s magic could have ripped him to pieces a long way back. That he had made it this far was promising, on some level Harry’s magic recognized him.

He stopped a few yards from Harry and took a moment to calm himself. “Harry?” He said quietly.

Harry’s head snapped towards him so fast Tony’s own neck gave a twinge in sympathy. The nearly-black eyes locked on his own brown, Tony staying very still. What seemed like it could have been an age passed before he noticed hopefully that the magic around them appeared to be reducing in intensity. “JARVIS?”

“Colors have reduced from crimson down to an orange-red majority, sir.”

Still very agitated then, but not lethal. Eyes slightly greener than before locked on the earpiece he wore. Tony absently confirmed his private theory that Harry’s magic enhanced his physical abilities as well as his power when severely stressed or angry. He’d never gotten Harry this angry at him before, but he had incurred the green-eyed beauty’s wrath a few times. Theirs had been at times a contentious relationship, especially at first when they’d both been learning about each other.

Tony could practically feel the moment Harry’s magic calmed, though he was still hyper-aware of his surroundings, launching a bold HYDRA soldier skyward with a sideways flick of his eyes. This close to him Tony could feel the infinitesimally small flick of the magic around them to do as Harry ordered. He had always admired Harry’s innate control of his magic; from the moment he’d been allowed to know that Harry was magical at all. Learning about his history and life had been shocking, He was little more than 10 years younger than Tony after all.

Green eyes once again locked on him; Tony was relieved to note that they were nearly back to their normal shade. As he was coming off the intensity of losing himself in his magic, Harry’s face and stance switched from blind rage to a confused sort of hope. His eyes dulling in color as ignored pain began to set in. “Tony?” he rasped, voice little more than whisper.

“I thought… I _hoped _I felt you nearby,” he continued, wincing and breathing a little harder.

“You were right, gorgeous,” Tony said, keeping what he hoped was a fairly normal grin on his face as he moved forward, taking Harry’s left arm in his hand just below the elbow to support the rapidly collapsing wizard. “Ready to get out of here?”

“More than,” Harry breathed, shaking now, tremors so hard they were nearly shaking Tony’s hand. Green eyes locked on his again and he said in a broken, shaking voice, “Please tell me this is not one of my hallucinations.”

Tony’s heart clenched at the near begging sound from the proud figure in front of him and he said softly, “It’s real, Harry. I’m here, we’re taking you home.”

Harry smiled before outright passing out. Tony lowered him briefly to the platform and barked a command, summoning the Iron Man armor from its spot. He quickly put it on and carefully picked up Harry’s unconscious form, lifting off from the platform in a steady hover until he was at a safe range.

“Rogers,” he barked, cancelling the silence on the comm. “I’m headed for the Quinjet, Strucker is two rooms over. I’ll have the scepter secured on board when you arrive.”

He carefully steadied Harry’s body in his arms before rocketing off, heading out of the roof and pointing in the direction of the parked Quinjet in the clear April sun.

*

Steve Rogers was quietly bubbling in anger as the Quinjet came into sight. Natasha was cautioning him on saying anything, but it was just … _Stark._ The man’s continuing arrogance was so frustrating, he’d asked him more than once to stop cutting out communications with teammates. And then he’d not only confronted a dangerous man _unarmed,_ he’d brought him back to the jet!

He eyed the jet, staying at the base of the ramp as he tried to cool his temper. Turning his back on the ramp, he watched with sharp eyes for either of the unknown talents they’d run into on the mission as Barton and Banner both escorted Wolfgang von Strucker to an onboard cell, hands secured with cuffs. Once the rest of the team was on board there was no further reason for him to remain outside in the snow and he strode up the ramp, temper cooled somewhat.

Once his eyes adjusted from the snow glare, he found to his surprise that Tony Stark was out of his Iron Man armor. He was sitting next to an emergency stretcher that held the man who had nearly taken out a platoon of HYDRA soldiers unarmed. Natasha knelt by the stretcher momentarily and took a needle from the man’s hand with a snort, expertly tapping a vein and starting an IV before heading forward. Sheepishly Tony called, “Thanks, ‘Tasha!”

His response was a soft snorting laugh as Natasha buckled herself into the pilot’s seat and started firing up the jet. Clint sighed and shrugged out of his quiver, rolling his shoulders a couple of times before taking a seat and getting comfortable for the flight. His eyes flicked briefly to Stark and the wounded man, before he shrugged slightly. Bruce was already sitting, watching Tony as he muttered under his breath to his AI, hovering over the figure on the stretcher with such obvious concern it gave Steve pause.

Thor was already asleep, unconcerned with their latest puzzle. Steve briefly shook his head, envious of his ability to sleep virtually anywhere. He shrugged his shield off, hanging it on the wall of the jet next to Barton’s quiver before sinking onto a bench, watching the sleeping figure with sharp eyes. Once they were in the air and their location was locked in, Natasha left the cockpit and strolled back, sitting next to Tony but out of the eccentric genius’ way.

Abruptly Tony stood, walked over to the powered down suit of armor and pressed _just so_ on a plate, popping loose the Arc Reactor that powered the armor. He walked back to his seat, set the reactor on the unconscious man’s chest and barked, “Harness mode.”

Small strap unfolded from somewhere on the back of the reactor and unfolded over the man’s shoulders, wrapping together behind his neck and around his ribs. Tony touched the straps briefly and then nodded, apparently satisfied with the fit. “JARVIS?”

“Yes sir?” The AI promptly asked, voice coming through the intercom system on the jet.

“Begin monitoring his vital stats, notify me if they change beyond his current norms.”

The AI made an affirmative noise, while most of the team stared at Tony in ill-disguised surprise. Not only had he attached some of his very secretive technology to what was a total stranger, but the blatant concern and _worry _he was exhibiting was a surprise from their very closed-off friend.

“All right, Stark,” Steve finally said, frustration evident in his voice. “Why did you bring a total stranger, a very dangerous one at that, onto the jet without bringing it before the team? Not only that, what seems to be your problem with regards to communicating?”

Natasha had sent him a warning look when he began talking, but he ignored her. Steve was frustrated beyond belief with the more arrogant than normal behavior from Stark.

Tony arched a brow at him and said, “Back to surname basis, Rogers? Need I remind you again, we are a _team,_ not your obedient little troops? As for explaining myself,” he arched a brow, “I would say at the moment that I’m a little more concerned for this man here and your ego can wait.”

Natasha shot both Steve and Tony exasperated looks and said firmly, “JARVIS, call Fury.”

There was a brief silence before a slightly impatient voice barked, “What? I’m going to hope that the reason why you lot are contacting me so soon is that your mission was successful.”

“It was, sir,” Natasha replied respectfully. “We’ve secured both the scepter and Strucker and are on our way back now.”

“I sense a but, Romanoff,” the man replied dryly.

“We found _him_, sir,” was all she said.

There was a long, shocked pause. “_HYDRA _had him? All this time?”

“It appears so, Nicholas,” Tony said, voice a bit brisk. The name caught them by surprise, since when did Tony Stark call Fury by his first name? For that matter how did he know Nick was a nickname?

“My God,” the voice replied, sounding stunned. “I feel like I should be apologizing Stark, my agents failed.”

“Nicholas, don’t.” Tony said, voice suddenly shaking. “We had no clue, not one. We’ve been looking for almost five years, HYDRA never once even hinted that he was there.”

“Should I have our specialists on standby?”

“Yes,” Natasha said without hesitation, “he’s in a bad way, sir. JARVIS will forward his stats; he’s monitoring until we reach the helicarrier.”

“I’ll have them ready. If Rogers isn’t listening, tell him and the rest of the team to stand down. I’m guessing Stark isn’t in the mood to mess with them.”

Natasha flicked her eyes pointedly to Steve. “Will do, sir.”

The call ended, leaving everyone aside from Tony Stark and Natasha Romanoff very confused. What was going on, and who was the man on the stretcher? They had no idea that the answer, when it came, would shatter their opinions and preconceptions on the arrogant, selfish genius called Tony Stark.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can't tell you how happy the responses to this fic have made me. I was extremely nervous about posting this, it's been rattling around in my head for a while but I know next to nothing about the Marvel fandom other than the movies and it's so incredibly complex. I've been studying timelines, reading character wikis, doing everything possible to try and create something that is a credit to the characters.
> 
> Out of curiosity, how is Tony's characterization to you? He's a bit difficult to write, but I'm enjoying it.
> 
> This chapter explains some of Tony and Harry's past.

When the Quinjet reached the helicarrier, Tony barely waited for the ramp to lower before dropping onto the deck, greeting several people dressed in white jackets trimmed in green. He ignored Rogers’ calling behind his back. Instead steering the wheeled stretcher carefully to the edge of the ramp before handing it over to the professionals. He retrieved the Arc Reactor and strode off in their wake at a brisk pace.

He had no patience whatsoever for the questions that his team no doubt wanted to barrage him with. Instead he followed the Healers into the main building, answering their brisk questions to the best of his ability as they walked to a nearby elevator and descended several floors. Harry’s stats had been worryingly low the entire journey, but at least they hadn’t dropped any further. Turned out there were more wizards and witches in S.H.I.E.L.D than he’d previously realized. Nick himself was a squib as Harry called it and made sure they were comfortable working for him. Right down to their preferred type of doctors, though the American version of a healer was far more advanced than the backwards English version.

They left him outside the main wing of the medical section, reassuring him that they would notify him the moment Harry was stabilized and he could enter the room. Tony thought briefly on sitting down before catching the sight of the dried blood on his hands from trying to treat some of Harry’s smaller injuries. Shakily he breathed out and instead went in search of a bathroom, fatigue hitting hard as adrenaline and shock wore off.

He scrubbed his hands thoroughly and splashed his face with cold water for good measure. He rested his forehead on the cool sink for a long moment before slapping the arc reactor on the sink edge and bracing his arms on either side of the sink. He felt like he was going to pass out and his normally overactive mind was _racing_. He took in a couple of shaky breaths and said, “JARVIS, call Rhodey.”

“Yes sir,” the AI replied quietly.

It took three rings for a slightly worried male voice to pick up. “Tony? Are you okay? I know you had a mission with the Avengers today.”

“I’m fine, worrywart,” Tony replied. “Went to Sokovia, blew up a few dozen troops, got the scepter and Strucker. Bing, bang, boom and a done deal.”

“Sokovia?”

“Teeny little country near Russia, practically smaller than Rhode Island.”

James Rhodes chuckled on the other end of the line. “If it was so easy, why do you sound completely shattered?”

“We got a bit of a shock,” Tony admitted. “There was a big fight in one of their central chambers. One of their prisoners had gotten loose and was causing hell in revenge.”

“I would be too if I were at the mercy of HYDRA,” James said frankly.

“It’s Harry, Rhodey. The prisoner who got out was Harry.”

Dead silence on the other end of the line. It lasted for several breaths during which Tony’s knees gave on him and he slid to sit on the floor, staring at white tile. He leaned his head back against the wall, thankful for the cold.

“Holy shit,” James finally responded. “That’s why we couldn’t find any trace for almost five years, it was HYDRA?”

“Yuppers. Nicholas sounded about as shocked as you, we’d almost completely discounted HYDRA a couple years back. How they managed to subdue him in the first place is a big question, but we’ll have to wait to ask, he’s not in very good shape.”

“He’s alive?” James asked hesitantly.

“Yeah. His stats were bad on the way back, but he’s in the capable hands of S.H.I.E.L.D healers.”

“I can’t imagine what you must be feeling, Tony,” James said.

“I about fell out of the air when JARVIS said it was him,” Tony admitted. “Natasha was pretty stunned as well.”

“I imagine. She’s the only one of your teammates that even knows who he is, let alone that he’s your fiancé.”

“Rogers was on my back about getting him out of there, I was ready to blast him out of the jet and let him find his own way back,” Tony grumbled.

“Look, I know you have your _issues_ with Captain America and what he represents, but look at it from his point of view for just a moment,” James reasoned. “You are in the middle of HYDRA territory, fighting soldiers and you come across a figure who was probably tossing them about like ragdolls. He wipes out a good portion of them and then collapses or something and one of your teammates rescues him and brings him aboard a confined plane with the rest of your team.”

“I understand it was a bit unreasonable,” Tony snapped, “but he could have asked me rather than his superior-to-thou _ordering._”

James sighed, but let it go. “Do you want me to call Pepper for you? I can give her the facts I know and ask her to hold off on calling for a while.”

“Please,” Tony sighed.

“I’m going to sound like a broken record, but get some sleep, please.”

“I’ll try,” Tony replied, having no intention of doing so.

James ended the call and Tony just sat there a moment longer, before standing with a sigh. His stomach rumbled and he said, “JARVIS?”

“Yes sir?”

“You’re still in the helicarrier system, correct?”

“Yes sir.”

“Be a good little AI and monitor the hospital wing for me? I’m going to grab something to eat and some coffee, but I want to know if Harry’s condition changes or the healers are looking for me.”

“Very well, sir.”

Tony grinned.

*

Natasha eyed Steve and huffed slightly. Even after being warned by Nick Fury that Tony was likely to be less than cooperative about this latest development, he still went around demanding answers from the billionaire. Honestly, she wasn’t that surprised that Tony was so belligerent half the time. Rogers was a bit obsessive about a clear chain-of-command. She had known Tony for far longer than Steve, she knew how well he would like being told what to do by what was in his eyes his father’s pet project.

She shook her head and lead the way across the deck of the helicarrier, moving in near enough the opposite direction from Tony and the healers. Yes, she knew what the green lining on their doctor’s coats meant. She’d been clued in on the existence of magic after being asked to help look for Harry. Tony had asked for her help soon after realizing she wasn’t ‘Natalie Rushman’, showing her photos of Harry.

Asking Nick for his file and reading it had been a shock. Ten years and two months younger than Tony Stark, Harry James Potter had lived a life that matched the files of military veterans two or even three times his age. He was a force to be reckoned with, but you had to piss him off first. After fighting a civil war actively from age 14 onward he was very reluctant to put himself in a combat situation again. Natasha understood, even though she found it near impossible to stand by if she could do something.

She strolled into the main control center of the helicarrier, folding herself into a chair near the back of the round table. She eyed her teammates as they filed in, watching for any concealed serious injuries. Not noting anything of concern, she leaned back in her chair and waited. Just as Clint was starting to fidget, Nick walked in followed closely by Phil Coulson. Phil had nearly died during the Battle of New York during Loki’s escape, but he’d been found in time. Natasha was very relieved; her long-time handler and good friend would have been hard to replace.

Absent of course was Tony, several levels and half the ship away at the hospital wing. Nick debriefed them on the mission first, confirming that the scepter and Strucker were both well secured and the scepter awaiting transfer to the renamed Avengers Tower. He got each of their opinions on the fight in the central chamber and from their point of view the nerve-wracking confrontation between Harry and Tony. Afterwards Nick sighed and pulled out a chair, motioning for Phil to sit as well.

“Stark, I know you’re listening in on our conversation,” Nick said.

“Yeah, I am,” Tony’s voice replied. He didn’t sound at all concerned at being caught eavesdropping.

“Do I have your permission to tell them about Harry?”

“All of it? I know some of it has to go through official channels. A great majority of his information is need-to-know unless cleared by the White House after all.”

Natasha watched several eyebrows around the table rise in disbelief, clearly thinking Tony was playing a joke.

“You’re right of course,” Nick sighed, confirming Tony’s words. Several of those eyebrows raised further in surprise. “But they’re not going to understand anything unless I tell them and I know you’d rather I did it. You’re not going to have the patience for a damn thing until he’s awake and up.”

“True,” Tony agreed bluntly. “Very well, go ahead. I know he won’t mind. JARVIS can pull up any of his files for you if you need them. I’d have one of your people give a heads up to the White House and MACUSA though.”

“MACUSA?” Natasha asked, the term having not come up before.

“Magical Congress of the United States of America,” Tony responded. “Our answer to the Ministry of Magic in the United Kingdom.”

“Magic?” Clint scoffed, “You’re trying to get me to believe that what he was using back there was magic?”

“There’s a hell of a lot more to magic than what Loki did five years ago, birdy,” Tony replied. “I’ll let Nicholas take over.”

Nick sighed. “I’ve told him not to use my given name.”

“At least he didn’t use the full one,” Phil volunteered, lip twitching in amusement.

Looking Bruce, Clint and Steve especially dead in the eye Nick said, “If I hear one of you ask if I’m joking, training will be especially painful. You should know I don’t joke about this kind of thing.”

He took a sip of water and said, “Hidden from regular people across the globe is a society of magical beings. Not just witches and wizards but dragons, goblins, fairies and all sorts of things. It’s known to the highest level of governments around the world, but it’s not common knowledge. The Salem Witch Trials? Those weren’t just tracking down innocent people. Most of the ones who died weren’t actually magical, you can’t burn a true magical being when there’s a spell that freezes the flames. As for drowning, there’s a thing called a Bubblehead Charm that allows them to breathe underwater indefinitely.”

“Here in America normal people are referred to as no-maj, in the UK they’re called muggles. The oldest wizarding families are those from Europe and the Far East, most of the ones in Europe have traces to the Middle Ages if not further back. Their currency is in solid gold, silver and bronze. The UK society is one of the more backwards ones, they’re still under a patriarchal society with rampant prejudice of all kinds. The most prevalent one is blood-status. Those with two wizarding parents are called Pureblood, those with none are called Muggleborns or derogatively Mudbloods. Any combination of the two is called a Half-Blood.”

“What about those born to magical parents who don’t have magic themselves?” Bruce asked, curious.

“They’re known as squibs. Normally children show signs of what’s called ‘accidental’ magic from a few months of age onward, attending a magical school at age ten to eleven. If they don’t produce accidental magic then they aren’t registered for attendance at the respective magical school and won’t be invited.”

Bruce winced. “I can’t imagine some parents being happy about that.”

“There are those in the UK that have been known to cause the death of their own children if they haven’t produced accidental magic by age two,” Nick confirmed grimly. “Luckily my own parents were more forward-minded than the great majority of English wizards.”

Silence for a moment, then, “You’re a squig?” Clint asked.

“Squib,” Nick corrected. “Yes, I am. I was born Nicholas Shacklebolt to a relatively wealthy wizarding family in England. I’m the eldest of two, my younger brother is a wizarding version of a police officer back home.”

“They have their own law enforcement?” Bruce asked. Natasha noted that Steve had yet to ask a question.

“They do,” Natasha took the opportunity to confirm. “Their regular officers are called Aurors, they train for four to five years after leaving school to become an Auror. They train in combat, offensive and defensive spells and team casting. Most graduate by the time they’re 23 unless they take time off after graduating from their wizarding school at 17 and 18. They also have more highly-skilled and specialized people that are called Unspeakables, they are the wizarding variety of the FBI, CIA and other agencies.”

“You know about this?” Steve asked with a frown.

“I do.”

“Speaking of which, you’re getting a little ahead of things, Natasha,” Phil piped up, giving her a look. He tapped the keyboard on the edge of the table, producing an image.

It was Harry, one of the ones from his official files. Natasha studied it, recognizing the photo as being one from his file at MI6. He was standing, facing the camera. Legs spread just a bit and planted firmly on the ground; arms crossed. There was a focused, dangerous glitter in green eyes, framed by hair cut to near enough a buzz-cut. He was dressed head-to-toe in a form-fitting uniform with a mandarin collar and off-center silver buckles in what first appeared to be leather until she noted the distinctive shine. Black dragonhide leather then, she guessed, paired with solid black combat boots.

“Harry James Potter,” Phil began, “is a half-blood wizard born to a Pureblood man and his Muggleborn wife. James Charles Potter upset a good portion of pureblood wizarding society when he bluntly refused any betrothal contracts in favor of dating and marrying Lily Marie Evans, born to Muggles. They were both alumni of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry located in Scotland. They had been married for little more than a year when Lily gave birth to their firstborn, a son they named Harry James, on July 31st, 1980.”

“That blood prejudice that Nick commented on earlier had resulted in a wizarding civil war between people like James and Lily and those who followed a madman and half-blood named Thomas Marvolo Riddle, who went by the alias Lord Voldemort, a French word meaning ‘flight from death’. His followers were branded by a sentient tattoo of a snake and skull. They were commonly known as Death Eaters and the tattoo as a Dark Mark. Not many of his followers, if any, knew he was a half-blood. Studying his profile remotely some of our profilers have stated he was likely a sociopath.”

That got the first reaction from Steve, a slight cringe. No doubt he was remembering the prejudice from the first World War and the second one, which he’d been in.

“The wizarding world also has seers,” Nick said, “though the true ones are few and far between. The great-granddaughter of Cassandra Trelawney, one of the foremost Seers, was having an interview. While talking to the Headmaster of Hogwarts School, Albus Dumbledore, she spoke a prophecy, overheard by one of Voldemort’s followers.”

_“The one who will defeat the Dark Lord approaches. Born as the seventh month dies, to parents who have thrice defied the Dark Lord. He shall be marked by the Dark Lord as his equal, though he has power the Dark Lord knows not. The one who shall defeat the Dark Lord approaches…”_

“Voldemort’s follower only heard the middle sequence, with the phrase ‘born as the seventh month dies’. There were only two children born at that time that met that prophecy. One was Neville Longbottom, a pureblood and the son of two Aurors, Frank and Alice. The other was Harry Potter, a half-blood like Voldemort.”

“Afraid for their children’s lives, both families went into hiding. The Potters ended up being betrayed by someone they had thought was a family friend. Voldemort appeared at their home on Halloween night, 1981 and murdered James and Lily Potter with a spell that can’t be blocked and causes instant death. It’s illegal aside from government use in almost every wizarding country, using it is a lifetime sentence in prison.”

“He then turned his wand on a fifteen-month-old Harry Potter. The spell inexplicably failed, being turned back on Voldemort. Harry Potter was left with a distinctive scar on his forehead in the shape of a lightning bolt, an orphan who was being celebrated throughout English wizarding society. He was then left with his mother’s Muggle sister and her husband.”

Taking turns, Nick and Phil explained Harry’s life. The strongly-suspected abuse, attending Hogwarts like his parents only to have his life threatened from the age of eleven onward. Taking part in a dangerous tournament at fourteen only to see another student murdered in front of him and the rise of the Dark Lord, who hadn’t been killed. Being tortured by said man, then set up for a mockery of a fight with a man who was five times his age.

The following year, losing his godfather only to learn that he was subject to a prophecy. Teaching a group of students under an oppressive government that called him a liar and a madman, only to turn around and save said government the following year. Learning about Horcruxes and the fact that he was one, then walking to his death willingly to save those around him.

He’d survived, only for his government to turn him into an outcast again due to his magical strength. He’d worked with MI6 instead, going from fighting and winning a civil war at 17 to fighting terrorists alongside the elite of Muggle soldiers for the next four years. At twenty-one, the prejudiced, frightened English magical society had banded together and despite the work of his friends, banned him from setting foot in his home country on threat of arrest, trial and execution.

Harry had gotten wind of what they were going to do, thanks to his loyal friends. He’d emptied both of his families’ bank accounts, sold the properties and left the country, going first to France and then to MACUSA on the French Minister of Magic’s suggestion. It turned out that MACUSA had heard of Harry James Potter and had been tracking him, they were more than eager to jump on having him in the States and had granted him citizenship and protective immunity. If the English wizards so much as tried to take him back, it would mean open war between the American magical society and the English one.

Harry had converted his magical currency to American dollars, finding to his surprise that both of his families had surface companies in the muggle world, Potter Co., which was a very wealthy company supporting start-ups with the condition of a set profit within a timeline and shares in the company. The other and far more surprising to Harry was Noir Enterprises, an extremely old, wealthy company that ran research on everything from medicine to space travel. Harry had immediately shut down the weapons manufacturing, having had enough of fighting to last a lifetime.

He’d coaxed one of his best friends over to the United States to act as an aide and co-CEO, one Muggleborn witch named Hermione Jean Granger.

Natasha laughed. “Hermione’s brilliant. She’s scary if you piss her off, otherwise she’s about the only person I’ve met that can keep up a conversation with Tony for longer than a few minutes.”

She took over. “Tony met Harry in a bar, he goes out occasionally to nightclubs and the kind when he gets antsy. Of course, sarcastic, good-looking Harry was just Tony’s type, it was probably like a magnet. They got to talking and Tony flirted a bit, Harry shocked him by bluntly refusing. He went home, but he couldn’t get Harry off his mind, so he goes back, nightly for almost a month.”

“He very slowly won Harry over, but I know Pepper was shocked when it became clear he wasn’t just one of Tony’s one-night stands. He doesn’t see him for a few days until he goes to a charity gala and there’s Harry, introduced as CEO of both Potter Co. and Noir Enterprises and worth nearly as much as Stark Industries.”

“Hang on,” Clint coughed, turning red. “I thought Tony Stark dated women?”

“He’s bisexual, which means he’s attracted to both genders,” Natasha explained. “Before Harry he’d stayed quiet about being attracted to guys, Lord knows the media would have liked to tear into that one.”

Natasha continued with a snigger, “The media rags got photos of Tony and Harry together, started coming up with all these slanderous things about Harry, gold-digger, slut, you name it. Tony got worried Harry was going to be angry, and he was, but not about the photos. Instead he addressed the press outside of a restaurant where they were having dinner, told them casually about Potter Co. and Noir Enterprises, suggested they should get their facts straight before slandering a man who is a Lord twice-over in the British government. You should have seen how fast they retracted those papers.”

Nick took over again, explaining that the pair had been dating throughout Tony’s abduction by the Ten Rings and his initial creation of the Iron Man armor. Then, completely straight-faced, he dropped the little bombshell on the other Avengers. “Christmas Eve after the Obadiah Stane incident Tony proposed to Harry, who accepted. Initial plans was for a ceremony the next summer.”

“That’s legal?” Steve asked, frowning.

“Not nationwide, but in a lot of places it is recognized,” Natasha said, eyes narrowed. “It’s not the 1940s anymore, Steve. Modern mindsets have changed lots of outdated things, especially that ridiculous WHO declaration that homosexuality is a ‘disease’. The wizarding world of the UK is even more backwards than most of the modern world and they have long accepted that you love who you love. It’s really not a big deal to them, due to a little thing called male pregnancy. It’s complicated to explain but suffice to say it’s supported entirely by magic.”

Bruce Banner looked shocked. “How is that even possible?”

“Way over my head, Bruce,” Natasha replied. “Ask Harry when he’s awake, or better yet Hermione Granger as you’re bound to meet her now.”

“In February of 2011 Tony chartered one of his private planes to take Harry to a business meeting with executive wizards for Noir Enterprises in Geneva. The night he was supposed to have arrived, Hermione Granger contacted Tony and told him the plane hadn’t reached Switzerland. Some frantic tracking later located the plane, abandoned, in Iceland. After a couple days of searching, Tony called Phil and asked if he would look for anything on Harry in satellite footage. We never found him.”

“When we sent certain agents out we had them keeping an eye and ear to the ground for information on Harry, but none of it ever panned out. After several months was when Tony started to really go downhill for a while, paired with the palladium poisoning from the unperfected Arc Reactor. Once he got his head back on straight and realized Natasha was a plant by us, he asked for her help.”

“I was shocked when I learned about Harry, especially with Tony’s reputation in the tabloids. He was desperate to find Harry, enough to overlook the fact that I’d been spying on him for S.H.I.E.L.D. I’ve been keeping an eye out since, but we hadn’t heard a thing for almost five years.”

“What I want to know,” Steve frowned, “is how come he just happened to get out of his cell when we were attacking the base?”

“For one,” Tony’s voice came through the central speaker, surprising a few of them. Natasha quirked a lip in amusement, wondering if he’d been listening the entire time. “There are portions of Harry’s magic that are slightly more sentient, wizards call it ambient magic. Harry’s ambient magic is strong enough by wizarding standards for him to be able to pick up what’s known as an aura, a passive field of energy that surrounds every living thing. The aura for every person is unique, like our fingerprints. When I approached Harry on the central platform, he said he had ‘sensed’ what he hoped was my aura.”

“And two,” Tony sounded a bit annoyed. “I’m not sure what you’re implying, Rogers. If you had been captured and tortured by HYDRA for almost five years only for them to decide they no longer needed you, wouldn’t you try to escape at the first decent opportunity? We certainly gave him that distraction, considering there were no cells in that room he had to have been imprisoned somewhere else in the building.”

“Your little discourse reminded me of something, Nicholas. I need to get a hold of Hermione, she’s been holding down the fort pretty well for both of Harry’s companies, but unfortunately some of those creeps live in England. They’ve no doubt been plotting to seize Harry’s assets for a while now, thinking he’s dead. One of the big reasons they tried to throw him out of the country was so that they could seize his money for ‘rebuilding’.”

“Oh, they won’t be happy he’s alive,” Natasha commented.

“No they won’t,” Tony replied. “I’m going to enjoy seeing their faces.”

This time when Tony fell silent there was a small click, giving the impression he was no longer listening.

“I know you lot haven’t had much of a decent experience with magic after Loki, but I would hold off on judging Harry by the same standards. One he would not like it, two you don’t really know him, these are just the facts. The reason why I shared this with you is that Harry’s going to be living in the Tower with you and I wanted you to know that I had contacted him about the Avengers Initiative along with Stark back in 2010. He declined, but I’m sure you realize he’s not just a pretty face,” Nick’s good eye was narrow as he met each of their eyes.

Obediently each of the Avengers nodded, Thor finally speaking. “I am impressed to realize there are in fact magic users on Midgard. I was not aware they still existed. It will be interesting to speak with this Harry; his life is long for one even younger than friend Tony.”

It was with a start that the others looked again at Harry’s birthday, blinking at the idea that he was 10 years younger. Natasha was amused, she had felt the same. It was going to be interesting, meeting someone Tony Stark was so devoted to.

She looked forward to it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry wakes up and we meet an important secondary character :D
> 
> I don't own anything to do with Harry Potter or the Avengers, Marvel, etc.
> 
> Again, if you come across a piece of info that's not an obvious AU change, especially to do with Marvel 'verse, please feel free to say something.

Beeping. It was the first thing he registered, a slow steady beeping noise. After a few moments he realized the beeps matched the slow, steady beat of his heart against his chest. He tensed, waiting for pain. It didn’t come, the only pain was that in his body. His back particularly was sore, concentrating on it brought back flashes of a whip of some sort. He cast about for something else to think of, wondering why he was on a soft bed instead of the cold stone.

He pressed his memory. _Waking to pain. Normal. Routine. Loud explosions, crashes, cursing. Not normal. A fight? Dare he try to escape? His magic, seeking out, searching. Touching… something. Someone. A face comes to mind, brown eyes, sunglasses, a cocky grin. Tony! Could it be? Searching, seeking, pressing. Yes! Tony! Out of a cell, into a large room. HYDRA. Guns, magic, death. They want him dead. Redundant, subject zero no longer needed. Rage, pain, revenge. Tony! In front of him, asking if he’s ready to leave. Blackness._

Green eyes fly open and Harry’s sitting up, left arm flying up in front of his face in a defensive gesture. Pain flares through his entire body and he holds back a gasp, eyes watering. He’s expecting to see dark stone and instead the room is blindingly bright. He catches sight of his wrist and his eyes widen in horrified denial at the sight of silver wrapped around it with tiny runes. _No!_

“—Potter! Mr. Potter!”

His eyes whip to his left and find a figure dressed in white trimmed with green. _Healer?_ Still immensely confused and defensive, his ears catch a small gasp of surprise. Harry’s eyes flicked in that direction and he froze. Tony Stark stares back, dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt. His normally immaculate hair is disheveled, goatee a bit longer than normal. His brown eyes are intently locked on Harry’s green though, the sheer _emotion_ in them freezing Harry as much as the sight of him.

“Thank goodness you showed when you did, Mr. Stark,” the Healer to his left said with a relieved sigh. “He woke quite abruptly and the sight of the bracelets shocked him. Not to mention his change in location.”

Tony moved forward slowly but steadily, reaching out to take Harry’s still defensive left hand in his own, keeping it twined with his as he sat down. “It’s okay, Harry. You’re in a S.H.I.E.L.D location, back in the US. We’re off the coast of New York, actually.”

“The bracelets?!” Harry rasped, wincing at the sound of his voice. Tony retrieved a glass of water and gave some to Harry, carefully watching the amount so he didn’t choke. The water tasted incredible. How long had it been since he’d had clean, cold water freely?

“Your ambient magic was very aggressively shielding your body from any possible attack, which unfortunately also included our medical scans,” The Healer explained. “We had to use the temporary restraining bracelets to confine your magic so we could help you. We will take them off before you leave. Now, are you feeling any pain?”

“I--- yes,” Harry finally admitted, realizing it would be stupid to deny it when his back especially felt as if it was set on fire.

“Never thought I’d actually hear you admit you were in pain,” Tony said, voice light. “Remember when you got sick with a 102 fever and hid it until you passed out after Apparating from a meeting?”

“I believe the phrase that deserves is ‘pot and kettle’,” Harry replied, eyes narrowing. “I can remember a few of those incidents myself where it was you doing something stupid while hurt or sick.”

Tony raised a hand, not letting go of Harry’s. “I fully admit it, I’m just saying you have a habit of saying ‘I’m fine’.”

Harry snorted, wincing a bit as he registered the pain in his ribcage. “Fine. I know Hermione probably told you a few of the crazier ones.”

“I--,” Harry began, only his throat closed on him. He coughed, ignoring the momentary lapse. “How did you end up wherever the hell that was?”

“The country you were in is called Sokovia,” Tony explained, his voice strained. He’d noticed Harry’s hesitation, but didn’t comment on it. “Tiny little thing, almost smaller than Rhode Island. It’s near Russia. I was there with the Avengers team, tracking down von Strucker and a scepter. We had no clue you were there, Harry,” his voice was a bit hoarse. “I’ve been looking, ever since Hermione called me and said you hadn’t arrived in Geneva. We found the plane in Iceland but that was about it. I even got Nicholas and SHIELD in on it.”

“How long?” Harry asked, the question he’d been dreading.

Tony looked down. He looked defeated, inadequate. “Almost five years,” he whispered.

Harry took a deep breath, processing. Almost five years missing. Almost five years of poking, prodding, torture. Five years of being unable to do a thing to save himself. He locked green eyes on Tony’s frame in the chair next to him, taking in his slumped shoulders and downcast eyes. He could clearly see the man blamed himself and it made Harry angry. This man had always been so proud, so defiant. Confident, snarky and sarcastic. Not this defeated, self-depreciating man who looked like he’d held the world on his shoulders for a lifetime.

He tightened his grip on Tony’s hand, making the other man look up. There was a sheen of moisture in brown eyes, eyes that widened in surprise at the fierce look on Harry’s face.

“Don’t you _dare _blame yourself, Anthony Stark,” Harry said, voice almost a growl. His breathing was a bit shaky but he forced himself to keep Tony’s eyes. “You are just a human being, like everyone else. I know you; I _know _you probably pushed yourself to find me to the point of physical and mental exhaustion. I know you wouldn’t have given up with looking until you at least had a body. So don’t you fucking dare blame yourself or think I’m going to. I love you, Tony Stark, but for such an intelligent man you can be an idiot.”

Tony gave a watery, shocked snort of laughter. “Hardly been awake for an hour and you’re already lecturing me. Gods Harry, you’re something else.”

Harry’s lips twitched in a traitorous smile. “Takes one to know one,” he retorted.

Tony’s lips quirked into a semblance of his cocky smirk. “True. We’re quite the pair.”

“I don’t know how poor Pepper’s put up with you,” Harry said, before slumping back a bit. He was exhausted. The shock of breaking free, coming face-to-face with Tony and then waking up to find himself free and safe again was wearing on him. He suddenly understood far more of Tony’s viewpoint after escaping Afghanistan. It was unfortunate that he’d had to go through this to really get it, one would have thought facing down Voldemort and walking to his unnecessary death would have done the trick.

The Healer, a smiling woman with dark blonde hair cut short and blue eyes, walked back over holding two small glasses hardly bigger than a shot glass. Harry eyed them a bit warily, recognizing the left one’s dark blue color and peppermint scent. “I’ll take the Pain Potion gladly, but I don’t think I need the Dreamless Sleep.”

The woman arched a brow. “I’m guessing you’ve spent a fair amount of time in hospitals to recognize these, Mr. Potter.”

“No, just a warzone,” Harry muttered under his breath. Tony still heard him and stiffened, it still made him angry to think of what Harry had been put through as a teenager.

“Regardless,” she continued, “you _will _take both of these, or I will spell them into your stomach,” she smiled sweetly, but it didn’t really soften the threat that left Harry gaping at her. “You need to rest and no matter what you feel your mental recovery to be at this point, you’ve been put through an incredible amount of damage, Mr. Potter. You need uninterrupted rest.”

Harry huffed, especially when he noticed Tony’s lips twitching traitorously. Noting the dark rings under his eyes Harry said, “If I take it then you have to as well, Tony. And don’t bother arguing. Your sleep patterns are probably still as horrid as they were before and I can see that you need sleep.”

“Harry,” Tony protested logically, “we don’t know how that will react with me, especially since I don’t have magic.”

“Except we do,” Harry smirked. “I’ve slipped you that stuff at least twice before when you refused to sleep. Knocked you right out and you were sleeping so soundly you were _snoring._”

“Hey!” Tony protested. “I don’t snore, I dream I’m a motorcycle!”

There was a pause as they both processed what he’d set, then Tony cracked up laughing. Harry was snickering, his ribs keeping him from outright laughing. Once he’d calmed a bit, he took the Pain Potion. He pointedly waited until the Healer had gone and gotten another dose of the Dreamless before taking his. To his increasingly drowsy amusement, she stood there with her arms crossed and tapping a foot until Tony actually drank it, seeming to notice his pale complexion and dark circles.

“Glad you were there, Tony,” Harry slurred, fighting the Dreamless long enough to say it. “Love you.”

He didn’t notice dark brown eyes watching him softly as he fell asleep, nor the twitch of a lip at his words. He felt the gentle caress through his hair, but was already too far into dreams to respond. With a sigh, he closed his eyes. Everything would be fine.

He was home.

*

With a crack of displaced air, a woman appeared in the Apparition zone on the helicarrier. Her curly brown hair was mostly contained in a bun at the base of her neck, stray strands curling along her cheek and throat. Her honey-brown eyes were sharp, scanning the deck for possible threats. She was dressed sensibly for a European spring in a long a-line skirt, functional yet pretty boots and a cashmere v-neck sweater.

Hermione Granger had matured considerably since the events of what would have been her seventh year, but some things hadn’t changed. She was still very mature for her age, focused and driven. When there was a goal in front of her she worked tirelessly to achieve it. She still easily outstripped the vast majority of the men she interacted daily with in intelligence, which was off-putting to personal relationships. After breaking up with Ronald Weasley a year after the war, she realized what had been obvious to those around her. That while she did crave a relationship, she wasn’t going to dumb herself down for anyone nor change any fundamental part of herself.

Harry had realized that quickly and supported her fully through events that had almost fractured the Golden Trio, even under the pressure of the increased suspicion from his own country. It still made Hermione furious to think of how fast the Ministry of Magic and fickle public opinion had turned on Harry yet again, after he’d risked everything to destroy a madman while they had cowered behind their wards and blood-status. Her blind naivety towards authority figures had died a slow death, helped along by the sheer amount of manipulations a twinkly, grandfather-figure had heaped upon her friend.

From his friendship and romance with Gellart Grindelwald to the actions that had led Tom Riddle to believe his only course of action was genocide, Albus Too-Many-Names Dumbledore was _not_ what he had appeared to be. Putting herself, Ronald and especially Harry through trials year after year designed to test Harry’s mental status and wield him into a human weapon. Hiding the truth from him until after his godfather had died, when telling him in the first place would have kept him from going. Pitting him constantly against Slytherin, slamming into his head that anything associated with the house was inherently evil. It had torn Harry up inside for many years because at his core he shared many traits with the house of cunning.

And then the real kicker, sending him after the Horcruxes knowing that his scar would be like a damn _beacon_ considering it was one. Then, on the cusp of having completed a nearly-impossible task on very little solid information, telling him via the memories of a man that hated him that Harry would have to walk _willingly_ to his own death at 17-years-old to destroy the man. Because a fragment attached to his scar, even though the old man knew it had been destroyed years ago. That’s right, the scar hadn’t been a Horcrux since their second year, when Harry had been bitten by the same basilisk that had destroyed the diary.

Harry had nearly leveled the Burrow when Molly Weasley had told him that. She’d known of course, informed by the Headmaster so that she could behave accordingly. Thus the smothering and separation before Bill’s wedding, so that they would have to plan in secret and leave far less prepared than they would like. She’d pushed Ginny at Harry constantly as well. Molly had wanted not only the association with the _famous_ Harry Potter but the comfortable lifestyle, because of course Harry would make sure his in-laws were cared for.

She hadn’t counted on Harry being bisexual with a strong leaning towards his own gender, nor had she counted on one very important thing. _Ginny._ The first female Weasley in generations had decided she was better off friends after an awkward few months with Harry. The redhead had practically exploded when she learned her mother had been all but grooming her for the role for status and money. She had left the Burrow in tears of rage after screaming at her mother, she had yet to return. Instead Ginny was a very successful Chaser with the Holyhead Harpies and Harry, Hermione and George had standing tickets whenever they wanted them.

Hermione briskly walked across the deck as she was thinking, having been informed over her mobile where the hospital deck was. She was _just _restraining herself from running, unable to believe what she had heard from Tony. Her brisk pace carried her across the deck and inside, where she headed for the elevator. She moved so confidently and elegantly that despite clearly not having a SHIELD clearance badge none of the people moving around her even thought to ask who she was.

Stepping onto the elevator and hitting the appropriate button, she stood against the back railing and unconsciously her lips twitched into a smile. When she had first met Tony Stark at a charity gala as Harry’s ‘date’, she had not initially thought much of him. After Harry had asked if she would help him with the expansive companies that had been in his family, she had taken her job as the main PA and co-CEO very seriously. More than that, she was very protective of Harry, seeing him as something of a younger brother, one who had been through more than anyone ever should. She kept up with the news vigilantly, watching even the tabloids, if with a more cynical eye. She knew who Tony Stark was, or at least she had thought she did.

Harry had introduced them, mentioning later to Hermione that Tony was the very persistent male admirer Harry had been running into at the nightclub he owned, _Enchanted._ The one he’d apparently spent the previous night with. A side venture of Harry’s, the club was very popular, catering to both No-Majs and magical, some in the same area. Harry went there occasionally to see how the club was doing and to unwind. Moving straight from a warzone into MI6, he’d never had much downtime in his life until being forced to leave England. His battle-hardened instincts were wound tighter than the gears of a clock. Going out and drinking, dancing and occasionally taking someone home was his way of releasing tension.

Hermione had become friends of a sort with Tony’s obscenely well-paid PA/co-CEO, Pepper Potts. When Pepper had mentioned, casually, a month later that Harry had spent the night with Tony again, Hermione had been worried. Harry hadn’t really ever dated; Cho Chang didn’t count and Ginny had been awkward with Ron’s interfering hovering. He’d had a couple ‘friends’ at MI6, but nothing long-lasting. She was worried that playboy Tony Stark would be the one that would finally break Harry.

It couldn’t have been more to the opposite. With Tony, Harry genuinely laughed. With Tony, Harry lived, not merely going through the motions. With Tony, Harry finally _relaxed._ Invited over to Tony’s home in Malibu, Hermione had spent an evening chatting with Pepper and watching her friend as he laughed at Tony, poked fun at the advanced AI JARVIS and gently teased the two women watching them so intently. It had brought Hermione to tears, tears that she’d hidden successfully from Harry, but not from shrewd Pepper Potts. Worried, the other woman had asked her if something was wrong.

“I’ve known Harry since he was 11. He’s been fighting a madman, terrorists and his government for almost 15 years. I was beginning to worry that I would never see the person behind the mask again.”

Pepper had smiled sadly, knowingly. After that, Hermione had never had a problem with Tony Stark again. Talking to him revealed a witty, clever man who was also shockingly sensitive considering what slander the media had printed about him from a young age. And then there was the nearly off-charts intelligence, he’d graduated MIT at 17! Despite the fact that his mind no doubt constantly whirled with random thoughts or plans; he’d never seemed bothered by the fact that Harry didn’t match his intelligence level. Harry was by no means slow, dumb or anything else the Dursleys had thrown at him, but there were very few that could match Tony Stark’s intelligence.

In fact, Tony seemed to relax more himself around Harry, looking at him with awe and gratitude every time he snapped at the press on Tony’s behalf. It had enraged Hermione as well, the first time some fool had dredged up the old _title _‘Merchant of Death’. Every time the man did something incredibly generous, sensitive or kind someone had to throw that in his face, like they never did things they regretted. Hermione snorted. She doubted anybody would touch the title for a long time after Harry had ripped into the last fool who said it in front of him.

The entire time Tony had been missing, Harry had been a wreck. He’d stayed in constant contact with Pepper and JARVIS, desperate for any word. When he heard that Tony was back in the States, Harry had ignored the rules of Apparition that denied such a thing as possible and had gone from a meeting in France to California in a single jump. It had been the first time Pepper and Tony had seen Apparition in action, the shriek Pepper had given into Hermione’s ear through her mobile was entirely forgivable.

She had never seen Harry happier and more content with his life than just after Tony had proposed. Getting the genius and billionaire through his PTSD had been rough, the man had been put through hell. Harry and Hermione had realized that Tony was afraid to take normal medications due to the side-effects and the way they made his head feel. Harry had gotten hold of an American healer and promptly began administering anti-depressant and anti-anxiety potions through a capsule form. With that and the therapy Harry had insisted on, (ironic, Harry had refused point-blank to do it himself) Tony had improved remarkably.

After Harry’s abduction and disappearance in 2011, he’d regressed, badly. Running Harry’s two companies and keeping the Ministry of Magic from getting their grubby hands on Harry’s money and assets kept Hermione busy. She’d only been able to support Pepper via phone and occasional video calls, making two or three trips per year to visit Tony. Joined with the palladium poisoning, he’d been very near suicidal. Having only known him for a short time, it had surprised Hermione how much her heart hurt for how obviously vulnerable the man was.

Hermione had refused to believe her friend was dead, keeping as close an eye on his fiancé as she possibly could. Then New York had happened. Hermione had barely restrained herself from Apparating to Tony’s tower and smacking the man silly. She’d called him, later that evening. She hadn’t cared about the time, Tony hardly slept, especially since Harry had disappeared. He’d picked up on the fourth ring, just short of it going to his voicemail. He’d tried for a jaunty tone, but she’d heard the quiver of nerves in his voice and pounced on it.

It had been one of her more impressive rants, Hermione recalled with a smirk. Poor Tony had realized quickly it was best to stay silent, letting her run out of steam as she’d alternately raged about how stupid he’d been for someone so smart, to creative curses on his debatable lifespan and parentage. Once she’d finished and was panting angrily, he’d said only one thing.

_“Love you too, little sis’.”_

It had completely erased her anger. _“You are an idiot,”_ she’d huffed, to a laugh of all things.

_“I believe you just told me, in several different ways.”_

She had actually been meaning to call him, hearing through Pepper and Colonel James Rhodes that he was working more with the ‘Avengers’, as the team was known. He’d called her instead, shocking her. _“Sit down,”_ he’d said.

Once she had, he told her they had found Harry, in a HYDRA base. He was in bad shape, but stable on the SHIELD helicarrier. She’d cancelled her appointments with Harry’s advisors for the next week, ordering her assistant to reschedule. When one fool, residing in England, had protested, she’d snapped,_ “The owner and CEO of these two companies has been found, I’m going to see him.”_

She’d practically hexed him when she saw his sour expression at the news. They had been pushing a lot harder recently for Hermione to turn the companies back over to the Ministry of Magic, because _obviously _Harry Potter was dead. She’d been about to consult with Tony and Pepper, wondering if she could stop it by partnering the companies with Stark Industries. Merging the three companies would have taken Harry’s presence as owner, but partnerships could be done by CEO’s, without taking it to a board if she was clever enough.

Her musings had brought her to the outer doors of the hospital wing, which had a keyed security door. She could have unlocked it with magic, but who knew if these doors had been treated the way they’d realized Tony’s tech could, so the magic wouldn’t cause it to cease functioning. Instead she stood for a moment in the hallway and then said, “JARVIS?”

“Hello Miss Granger,” the vaguely British voice responded. Hermione snorted, typical Tony to make sure JARVIS had access to tech wherever he was.

“Will you let Tony know I’m here?”

There was a pause. “Sir is on his way.”

“Thank you,” Hermione replied with a smile.

The door swung open a minute later to reveal Tony. She eyed him critically for a moment, noting his skin and hair looked healthier than the last time she’d seen him in person, four months ago. His eyes were bright, sparking with intelligence and humor. He looked like he’d slept recently and she gave a mental nod of satisfaction. If he hadn’t, she wouldn’t have hesitated to drug him so he could actually _sleep_ for once.

“The goddess of wisdom had arrived,” Tony said dramatically, earning an eyeroll. Once Tony had realized that Hermione was far sharper than most, if not on his same level, he’d started calling her Athena or goddess of wisdom. He assigned nicknames to everyone he knew, whether he liked them or not. If he actually did like you, he’d stop if asked.

It was far more harmless than some of the things Hermione had been called in her lifetime, so she let it slide. She stepped forward and gave him a warm hug, top of her head not even reaching his shoulders. Even wearing heels she was no match for his height. Harry came to about chin-level. A vast improvement of the five foot four he’d been for many years.

“Missed you, lil’ sis,” He said into her hair, making her smile. She stepped back, arched an eyebrow and replied, “Missed you too, sometimes.”

He gave a yelp of mock outrage, “Only sometimes!”

She giggled. If there was ever a point in time she wished Sirius Black hadn’t died, it was after she had met Tony Stark. They would have been two peas in a pod, mischievous humor wise.

Calming down, she asked, “How is he?”

For once there was a fairly serious expression on Tony’s face. “I was told it was touch and go at first, even for the American healers. HYDRA did a significant amount of damage. He’s taking about six potions daily as well as pain potions and Dreamless Sleep, much to his objections. There’s enough damage that even with the potions it could be a couple more days for him to be released and he’s supposed to take it easy for a while.”

Hermione sucked in a breath. Potions normally healed most injuries overnight. “Have they done anything for his mental state? Gods know what’s in his head after that long.”

“Two of the six he’s taking are the same potions they gave me post-Afghanistan,” Tony confirmed. “They’re also making therapy sessions mandatory, after he broke through the Dreamless Sleep last night.”

“He broke through Dreamless Sleep?!”

Tony nodded, looking pained. “He remembers someone on the base having the ability to mess with people’s minds, his nightmare was a reoccurrence of one of those sessions.”

“What was it?” Hermione asked, worried about Tony’s expression.

“Apparently whoever that bastard is liked to taunt him with realistic visions of being rescued. They’d last for an hour or more only to stop with him in his cell or locked in some sort of steel container he vaguely remembers.”

Hermione’s heart gave a pang of sympathy for the sheer emotional pain that had likely caused her friend, not to mention mentally. To be repeatedly subjected to that; it was inhuman. “Whoever that is needs to be found,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Believe me, I’m working on it,” Tony said grimly.

Hermione almost felt sympathetic for the unknown person when Tony Stark got a hold of them. For a normally gentle man, he was vicious when riled and had a protective, possessive streak towards Harry a mile long. If one wished to remain on Tony Stark’s good side, they would do nothing against Harry Potter.

“Come on,” he said, motioning inside. “Harry’s awake, he heard JARVIS say you were here.”

The first person they met was a woman dressed in sensible running shoes and green scrubs under a green-trimmed white doctor’s coat. Hermione recognized the woman as a Healer here in the States, reaching out a hand in greeting.

“Hermione Granger, Harry’s friend and PA, as well as co-CEO.”

The woman smiled; eyes friendly. “Claire Dearborn, specialist consultant to SHIELD on magical patients.”

They shook hands. Hermione noted the word ‘consultant’ and said, “You are not employed by SHIELD?”

“No, I work for the chain of magical hospitals here in the United States. I don’t have a home office, I go where I am most needed,” Claire explained.

“Do you have private clientele that you work for?”

Claire’s brow arched. “A couple. Can I assume by your questions you want to know if I would take on Mr. Potter amongst my clientele?”

“Yes,” Hermione said. “It’s difficult to find Healers that he works well with, he distrusts medical things due to some issues in his past. Clearly you have clicked with him if he takes the potions you prescribe and is going to actually go to therapy. We tried to get him to do so after the Voldemort war ended, he outright refused.”

Tony’s jaw dropped. “And then he refused to let me think about backing out after Afghanistan?!”

Hermione smirked. “Harry is nothing if not a study in irony.”

“Oh, he’s going! Especially now that I know that! Pot and kettle indeed,” the billionaire muttered.

Turning to Claire, Hermione smiled. “Ignore him, he’s just plotting. Can I assume in return that you are interested or at least will think it over? You would be well compensated for your time.”

“I will think about it,” Claire replied, taking the card Hermione handed over with her information and mobile number. “Would you like to know how Mr. Potter is doing?”

“Please.”

“His injuries are healing more steadily now. We had to temporarily bind most of his magic in order to treat him, with nowhere else to go it appears to be redirecting inwards, helping heal his body. We’re confident he could possibly be released as early as tomorrow; we’ll see how he does today. The injuries taking longest to heal are the lacerations on his back and his right knee, which was entirely shattered when he was brought in. We vanished the bone and fragments from his leg entirely to make sure that they would grow back properly, but he’ll probably have a limp for a while.”

“Several ribs were broken; we didn’t want to mess with the ones closest to his heart cavity so we’ve bound his ribs. He has issues trying to breathe deeply as a result, but that will ease. There was severe burning around his neck from what appears to be a magical suppressant collar, the skin has healed but there is a small scar and the skin will be sore for a while. His left shoulder was dislocated and the tendon damaged, we repaired what we could but that arm will probably remain weaker the rest of his life.”

Hermione had braced herself, but it was still hard to hear the list of injuries, and those had just been the major ones. Her brown eyes narrowed as several facts clicked together and she inhaled a sharp breath. “There was a wizard with them, or several. That’s the only way they could have gotten a magical suppressant collar. It’s probably how they managed to subdue him in the first place. But who would work with an agency like HYDRA against Harry Potter?”

“I got that too,” Tony said, grimly. “First place my mind jumped to is some of those bigots back in England. Why just haul him back for trial and execution when you could hand him over for torture and experimentation?”

Hermione cringed. “Experimentation?”

“There were several dozen sites when he’d been either injected or had blood drawn over the years,” Claire explained. “Also the conversation that Mr. Stark’s associate heard about no longer needing him as he was ‘redundant’.”

Hermione’s lips were thin. “Blood is a dangerous thing to get a hold of in the wizarding world. I don’t like the implications behind that at all.”

“I don’t like it either,” Tony said, “but for now we can’t do anything about it. The base has likely been completely cleared out or leveled by HYDRA now, there would be very little if anything left.”

Hermione sighed and nodded, realizing Tony was correct. “Let’s go see Harry,” she said.

Tony led the way to a curtained off section near the back. Hermione’s lips twitched as she thought about how many times Harry had been in some hospital bed or another. Far more than most, he would have given his parents gray hairs before they were forty.

While Tony fairly bounded ahead and moved to Harry’s side, answering his questions on where Tony had gone, Hermione studied her friend. Prepared as she was by the conversation with Claire, it wasn’t as shocking as it would have been otherwise. He was pale, his hair cut fairly short in order to clean it properly after he’d been imprisoned for that long. His hands were a bit shaky as he reached out and took one of Tony’s, his eyes a bit duller from mingled pain and the potions he was on. But he was still _Harry._ She breathed a sigh of relief that even this hadn’t managed to break him, even if it had come close.

She took a step forward, ignoring the way his shoulders automatically tensed. She’d known Harry for years. His ingrained battle instincts, reinforced by defensive gestures due to a likely case of PTSD, didn’t bother her. She didn’t take it personally, neither did Tony, knowing far better than her what was running through Harry’s head. They both ignored the way his skin flushed in embarrassment and shame at the instinctive reaction. Hermione moved to his side and gently, firmly hugged her friend. There was a half-beat pause before Harry returned it, breathing out a bit shakily. “You scared me, idiot,” she announced, sitting down.

Harry’s brow arched. “Nice to see you too, ‘Mione.”

They stared at each other for a long time, brown locked with green. Then Harry broke it and sniggered. Hermione sighed. “I hate that short form, Harry.”

“I know, why do you think I use it when you get superior to thee?”

She rolled her eyes at Tony’s snort of laughter. “I don’t think you have much room to be laughing, Tony Stark.”

“I’m just enjoying that sharp wit being directed at someone else,” Tony smirked back.

“I knew we shouldn’t have introduced you to Draco,” Hermione huffed, “you’ve got the same damn smirk already!”

Tony chuckled. “I like Draco. His wife is one-of-a-kind too.”

“Luna is certainly special,” Harry agreed.

“You only like Draco because you’re shocked there is someone that is even prissier than you!” Hermione accused.

Harry almost snorted in laughter at the mock-offended look on Tony’s face. “Me, prissy? Just because I prefer not to look like a ragamuffin in public doesn’t mean that I’m prissy!”

“No,” Harry deadpanned, “Prissy is when it takes you almost an hour to decide on an outfit.”

“Hey! That was once,” Tony protested.

“A month,” Harry replied, “because that’s the number of times Pepper has the patience to force you to go to some black-tie affair.”

Tony actually pouted, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms. Hermione gave an exaggerated roll of her eyes and reached out to give a commiserating pat on the back of Harry’s hand. To which the eccentric genius stuck out his tongue at her. She snorted, dissolving into giggles.

All Harry did was look up to the ceiling and give an exaggerated sigh. Then the trio burst into uncontrollable laughter. Harry was quickest to stop, having trouble trying to breathe. They hung out together for another hour of so, chatting about various things. There was time enough to talk about serious things. Hermione smiled at her friend.

There was time. Harry would heal and keep going, as indomitable as always. Eyeing Tony’s protective positioning in his chair, she smirked. Likely with a protective, possessive man hot on his heels for a while.

Served him right, getting into trouble yet again. _Honestly_.


	4. Age of Ultron - New York

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Big chapter :D We've got a bit of Pepper, a dash of Bruce and the interrupted party, introducing... Ultron.  
I don't own Harry Potter or Avengers/Marvel nor any subsidiary. This is for fun!'  
Many of you guessed that it was Wanda messing with Harry's head, I'm impressed. They meet next chapter. It's...fun :D

Pepper Potts stood on the landing pad of the newly renamed ‘Avengers Tower’, waiting anxiously. When James had called her and said that Tony had found Harry, she had been stunned. It had been years since Harry had disappeared, almost five to be exact. As much as she had hoped that Harry would be found alive, there was a small pessimistic part of her that thought it would be impossible. According to what JARVIS had told her when she’d arrived in New York, if the person involved wasn’t Harry Potter, he would likely have been dead.

She straightened a non-existent wrinkle in her light tan skirt, scanning the skies again. At the sight of the Quinjet on approach, she breathed out shakily and stepped back, not even trying to keep the stray strands of her red hair from flying in the breeze. First down the ramp was Natasha, who smiled at Pepper. She was followed by Clint Barton, who proceeded to secure the Quinjet on the roof, checking security measures.

Then Tony appeared, supporting a figure who had a bit of a pronounced limp. His left arm was in a sling, his hair far shorter than Pepper remembered. But still, it was Harry and she placed a trembling hand to her lips, stunned. Stepping off next was a familiar woman with curly brown hair and Pepper smiled. Hermione Granger was a formidable woman, very intelligent and motivated. She reminded Pepper a lot of herself and the slightly older woman had taken her under her wing, educating her about everything from fashion and business to men and dating.

With trembling hands Pepper reached out and wrapped Harry in a hug when the pair approached her, burying her head under his chin. She felt him stiffen at first, before he relaxed and tightened the hug, sighing. “Hello Pep,” he murmured, voice a bit rough as he used his usual nickname for her. Pepper let out a choking sob of laughter in response, staying in his arms a moment longer.

“I am so _glad_ your home, Harry,” she said, stepping back only to press a kiss to his forehead, to a small smile from the dark-haired wizard.

During their greeting Thor, Steve Rogers and Bruce had exited the Quinjet, watching the reunion with quiet, slightly confused faces. “How much do they know?” Pepper asked Tony.

“Most of the technical stuff,” Tony replied. “I think they’re still trying to wrap their heads around the idea that I’m human and capable of a dedicated relationship to be honest,” the man continued, sounding somewhat bitter.

Harry disentangled himself from Pepper long enough to swat Tony’s shoulder lightly. “None of that, Tony. Ignore them, they’ll come around. If not,” Harry’s voice dropped a little, “you’ve got Pepper, Happy, James and myself and you’ve said more than once that was enough,” reaching up to press a chaste kiss to the man’s lips.

Tony sighed, “You’re right of course, I just thought that the team I supposedly work with would be better than to believe what tabloids say.”

Harry was lightly swaying on his feet, exhaustion clear in his face. Pepper looked at him, concerned. “Why don’t I show you where Tony’s room is and you can get some rest, Harry? I’m not sure you should be on your feet for so long yet.”

“A very good idea,” Hermione said pointedly, looking at Harry. “It’s time for some of your potions, I know you don’t like being vulnerable in front of a lot of people.”

Harry hesitated, clearly resisting. When Tony gave him a firm look he sighed and nodded. “Fine.”

Looking at Tony, he said, “I know you have some things you need to do, why don’t you go work on them? I’m likely to just take these doses and then try and sleep them off.”

“You sure, gorgeous? I’m happy to stay with you,” Tony’s voice and eyes were soft, questioning.

“I’m sure. JARVIS is in this building I assume, I can get a hold of you through him even in the labs, correct?”

Tony nodded. Looking at Pepper, he said, “After you and Hermione catch up on things, will you show her to the room I had made? I’m sure she has some things to catch up on.”

Pepper nodded.

As they split up, Pepper smiled. Harry was hurt, but he was here and he was _alive. _That was all that mattered. The rest was just technicalities.

*

Bruce Banner had made his way down to the labs, letting himself inside with his access code. He started up his computer, signing in. Four small dots whirled around on the screen before it turned bright green and said, ‘Welcome back, Dr. Banner’. Bruce snorted, despite his best efforts he’d been unable to change the color of the welcome page, Tony picking the bright green because it reminded him of the ‘other guy’. He brought up one of his scanning programs and directed it to begin scanning the scepter, behind him on a podium surrounded by advanced scanning equipment and various other tech.

As it began to scan, his mind wandered to the puzzle that had been presented to them three days ago, the puzzle named Harry Potter. It was shocking to hear that there was an entire community of magic users on Earth, they were very well hidden. His life story was something that had to be seen to be believed. He was probably even more of a soldier than Steve Rogers, having fought against a wannabe tyrant since the tender age of eleven.

When they had boarded the Quinjet to come back to the Tower, Bruce had been surprised to see Tony. He and an attractive woman with curly brown hair escorted a very weak but awake Harry onto the jet. Tony had introduced the woman as Hermione Granger, witch and Harry’s PA, co-CEO and pseudo-sister. He’d then completely ignored the rest of them for the ride, guiding Harry’s head to rest on his shoulder and twining their fingers together, speaking quietly in his ear.

The easy way Harry had rested against Tony, closing his eyes despite being amongst strangers spoke to how much he trusted Tony Stark. Hermione Granger’s sharp watchfulness more than made up for it. From what they had heard, the pair were closer than blood siblings. For one who had made it a habit to study body language like Bruce, the tension in her shoulders and her stiffly upright posture made it clear. She did not trust them. It was fair, they were complete strangers to her and Harry had been a prisoner to foreigners, presumed dead for at least two years if not longer.

Remembering what Tony had said about her, she was under a lot of pressure being Harry Potter’s co-CEO and PA. The two companies were established on old money, older than perhaps the United States itself. Putting it in the hands of a woman of new blood was something like what Tony would have done, putting her up against a group of uptight, snooty socialites. Then there was the corrupted Ministry of Magic, trying to get her to turn over Harry’s companies and other assets since he was _clearly_ deceased.

Tony seemed to like her as well, chatting easily with her as the plane ride continued. It wasn’t a long flight, just long enough for Bruce to study the trio across from him and wonder. When Bruce exited the jet, he wasn’t surprised to see Pepper Potts waiting, not only was she Tony’s PA but one of his best friends. Bruce was surprised to see how emotional she got when she saw Harry walking towards her. She brought him into a tight hug and then pulled back and kissed his forehead with a trembling smile. Followed by Hermione, the trio walked off the roof and into the Tower, heading somewhere.

Bruce had left the roof as well, leaving behind a curious Thor and a frowning Steve Rogers. He respected the soldier immensely, just about everyone had heard of Captain America. The man himself was a bit lesser than his title, prone to the same faults as the rest of them. For all his improved strength and speed, Steve was still just human like the rest of them. Bruce wasn’t a confrontational man, but he was getting to that point at least where Steve and Tony were involved.

Tony Stark was frustrating at times, downright irritating in some cases. He was childlike when it suited him and possessed an interesting sense of humor. He didn’t often work well with others, a result of having a mind that sped along _years_ ahead of the people around him. But he was still one of the most selfless men Bruce had met, trying to better himself even when the media seemed determined to beat him down. After years of being an alcoholic playboy who ran rampant through life while selling weapons, he’d changed.

He'd shut down weapons manufacturing within a month of his return from Afghanistan. He’d drink a glass or two on occasion but after nearly killing himself from alcohol and his palladium poisoning, he refused to get that drunk again. He donated millions of dollars a year to different causes and attended charity galas, stopping his one-night stands cold. Now that Bruce had time to think about it, the one-nighters had stopped several years ago, even before Tony had been abducted. That must have been when Harry had come into his life.

Despite all his faults, Tony Stark was a good man. A better one than his father had been, according to many. Yet for whatever reason Steve Rogers held Howard Stark up on a pedestal, refusing to equate Tony as being anywhere near worthy of his father’s image and name. He’d failed to see that Howard Stark wasn’t as intelligent as his son, that he had faults. That instead of searching for his friend who should be dead, he should have been paying attention to and raising his son. Bruce had put things together from random comments Tony had made, he knew Howard had constantly put down his son, ignoring and belittling him.

The glass security door slid open with a near-silent _hiss,_ admitting the man featuring in his thoughts. Tony strolled inside, wearing a pair of black jeans and an old black t-shirt with the AC/DC band logo. He’d put on a pair of his high-tech glasses and tapped the left side as he walked over, logging into his computer system which took up the majority of the right wall. Strolling casually to face the scepter, he said, “JARVIS?”

“Yes sir,” the AI answered.

“Do a scan of the scepter with your complete diagnostics system. Concentrate on the gem, it seems to be the power source.”

“Yes sir.”

Turning to Bruce he said, “What are your scans concentrating on?”

“Wavelengths mostly, searching for sources of Gamma radiation on the side. I’m not expecting to find much on that end, but the way that gemstone works seems to indicate some type of communication or emission, which was why I chose to concentrate on the wavelengths,” Bruce replied.

“Sound,” Tony nodded, “you can exclude any wavelengths that can’t travel through titanium, Loki couldn’t use it on me in New York, the reactor interfered.”

“But is that the titanium shell, or the reactor itself?” Bruce questioned.

Tony hummed. “Good question. I guess don’t exclude anything for now, we need to do initial scans without inferring.”

There was a tap on the glass. Bruce looked to the door, startled. Outside was one Hermione Granger, who merely arched a brow at Tony.

“Let her in, JARVIS,” he said.

The witch stepped in, opening her mouth to speak. Instead her eyes narrowed instantly on the scepter. “Is that the _thing_ from New York?”

“It is,” Tony confirmed. “We’re studying it, trying to figure out how it works. We haven’t finished our scans yet.”

Hermione’s posture was defensive as she stared at the scepter, hovering innocently in the middle of the room. Her lip curled and she spat, “It’s got Dark Magic reeking from it.”

Tony took a cautious step back, whether from Hermione’s words or her dangerous stare Bruce wasn’t certain. She took a careful step forward, removed a finely polished and carved piece of wood and flicked it at the scepter, muttering a phrase in Latin. A flicker of amber light left her hand and struck the scepter, forming a bubble around it before disappearing.

“It won’t be influencing anyone now,” she said grimly, flicking some of her hair out of her eyes. “That was a temporary measure, but it will hold for some time.”

“What did you do?” Bruce asked curiously.

“I cast a shield on it, one that protects those around it, not the scepter itself. That gem is the instigating force, there’s something wrong with it.”

“Is that a wand?” Bruce asked, looking at the piece of wood in her hand.

“I forget you’re new to magic,” she replied frankly. “Yes, this is my wand. I purchased it at age 12 in London, it will be in my possession until I die or it gets snapped in a fight. If it’s the latter I’ll have to replace it, wands that have been snapped can’t be repaired. That’s why if you’re sentenced to a wizarding prison or expelled from a magical school, they snap the wand. It’s worse to have your wand snapped after the first few years, it feels worse than breaking your arm.”

Bruce winced. “Ouch.”

“Indeed, and that’s not the best analogy either. It’s not something you physically feel, it’s more inside you. Your internal magic connects to your wand, it feels like an extension of your magic. So breaking it,” Hermione cringed, shuddering.

“Does Harry have a wand?” Bruce asked.

Hermione frowned. “He does, or at least he did at the time he was captured. If there was someone magical involved in his capture like we suspect, they could have snapped it several years ago. I don’t know if Harry remembers, he was in a lot of pain anyway but with how strong his magic is… We’ll have to find out. If it was snapped, he’ll need a new one. He’s fairly proficient in wandless magic, but it does help to have a focus for all of his energy.”

“Wandless magic? Focus?” Bruce questioned, feeling like an idiot.

To his surprise it was Tony that answered. “Wandless magic is pretty much self-explanatory, it’s magic that people do without using a wand. It’s rare to be able to use and control however, it takes extraordinary control. Harry’s always been more inclined to wandless magic than most wizards. What he was doing when we rescued him was all wandless magic.”

“A focus is an object that can be used to help channel magic, like a wand. There are others like a staff, but wands are the most common. Wizards are beings of pure magic; their body is full of it. When they use spells, the magic is pushed through their body and bent to their will via the spell, usually in Latin because it’s one of the oldest languages. Without having a wand to focus and direct their magic it’s often wilder and prone to striking outside of where the witch or wizard wants it to go.”

Turning to Hermione, Tony grinned. “Thanks for the shield, lil’ sis. Nice to know you still care about me.”

Hermione snorted. “I only care enough to not want the clean-up duty if you mess up, Tony.”

“Sure,” the billionaire teased.

She walked away, rolling her eyes. “The reason I came down here wasn’t for your sorry self, Tony. I was letting you know that you may as well stay and work a while, Harry’s out on a dose of his Dreamless Sleep. He’ll likely sleep until morning and yes, he took the rest of his potions.”

Tony closed his mouth, having been about to say something. Sheepishly he grinned and said, “Thank you, Hermione.”

“Uh huh,” she replied, opening the door. “I’ll be back down in a couple of hours with food for the both of you. I expect you to stop and eat it, no matter what you’re doing.”

The glass door swung shut behind her, cutting off any remark Tony could have made. The billionaire simply snorted and turned back to his holo-screens, a wry grin crossing his lips.

“You’ll get used to her, Green.”

Bruce arched a brow. Somehow he had a feeling he would indeed get used to Hermione Granger, she didn’t appear to be going anywhere soon.

*

Tony had chosen, some time ago, to hold a small party at the Tower, on what he called the ‘party town’ level. Two stories of the tower, with one wall entirely made of reinforced glass, the floor was mostly hardwood. It had a full bar near the elevator as well as public style bathrooms with multiple stalls. The top level had chairs and tables, while a large amount of the bottom floor was dedicated to a dance floor. The entire area had state of the art lighting and sound system wired into it, with ample seating and appropriate décor, even some live plants.

He’d debated calling it off, but Harry had stopped him from doing so. He could always avoid that level if he was having one of his ‘off’ days and he was free to come and go as he chose, so there was no reason to call off the whole thing when he’d had fun planning it and inviting people. There was everyone from a few war veterans and the Avengers team to Pepper, James and several people from SHIELD. Nicholas hadn’t shown, but Harry wasn’t surprised. He’d gotten a couple of raised eyebrows when he’d entered the room, his arm was finally out of the sling but his left side was still weak. His ribs were healing but sore, at least he finally was able to take off the wrapping.

He’d picked a comfortable pair of black denims, flat sneakers and an emerald green sleeveless silk button-up shirt, tucked in. He’d grown his hair back out to his preferred length of just to his shoulders with a potion, it was slowly going back to it’s normal silky texture. Of course the sleeveless shirt showed the scars around his wrists from his cuffs and a few on his arms, but he was long past being self-conscious about scars after having one on his forehead for the world to stare at.

He still had a definite pronounced limp, but anyone watching could tell that without it his pace would be graceful, almost prowling. He walked over to the bar and swung himself easily onto one of the seats, crossing his arms in front of him on the table. “Tony still have that Firewhiskey I introduced him to?” he asked the bartender, an old friend of Tony’s from a Malibu bar he’d frequented.

The bartender, Mike, nodded with a grin. “A double of that, please, on ice.”

“Firewhiskey?” A voice practically purred from his right. Harry tilted his head, taking in a woman with dark red hair and practically saturated in a dangerous aura. She was dressed casually in a skirt and blouse, but it didn’t fool Harry. She held herself the same way Harry and his associates at MI6 had, in a way that screamed she was confident in her ability to defend herself and take down any threat.

Harry catalogued what he knew of Tony’s teammates in his head, coming to a single conclusion. “Would I be correct in saying your name is Natasha?”

“You would,” she said, taking a drink of a clear liquid that was likely vodka. Harry refrained from crinkling his nose, vodka was best in his opinion mixed with something else.

“Firewhiskey is an alcohol created by a wizarding family in England, the full name is Ogden’s Firewhiskey. The Black Label is their premier stuff, I have a standing arrangement for two cases of it every three months. It’s quite a bit stronger than your average whiskey and has a distinctive burn to it, hence the name.”

“How strong?” She asked.

Just then Harry’s whiskey arrived in a short, stout tumbler and he took a generous swirl of the stuff into his mouth, shuddering a little bit from the heat. He liked Firewhiskey, but the stuff was best with food usually.

“Double the potency of normal alcohol,” Harry replied. “Tony didn’t believe me,” Harry sniggered. “Needless to say he had one hell of a hangover after his first time trying the stuff.”

Natasha laughed. “Oh I bet that was a sight!”

“Not really,” Harry said, amused. “Tony may drink alcohol like it’s water, but he’s a baby when it comes to being hung over. Or at least he did,” Harry frowned. He’d heard from Hermione and Tony himself about his breakdown after Harry had gone missing. He’d not been impressed with his fiancé for his behavior, but he had been working on improving himself. Ton had impressed Harry when he told him he wouldn’t usually have more than a glass or two of alcohol now. The man admitted that he didn’t like what he became when he drank.

Harry polished off his Firewhiskey and nodded when Mike asked him if he wanted another. After the bartender walked away, JARVIS suddenly piped up very quietly from a nearby speaker, “Harry, sir, if you don’t want the alcohol to have any adverse effects with your potions regimen you should stop after this one.”

“Thanks for the reminder, JARVIS,” Harry said fondly.

“You’re welcome, sir.”

“You know,” Natasha said, “we can interact with JARVIS, but I’ve never seen him take orders or seem to care about anyone besides Tony.”

Harry smirked, enjoying an inside joke. “JARVIS decided a long time ago it was better off if he listened to me.”

Natasha looked surprised when Mike set a double of the deep red liquid in front of her as well as Harry. “Trying to get me drunk?” she arched a brow.

“Despite being double the potency of normal alcohol, I highly doubt one would get you drunk considering you drink straight vodka,” Harry replied dryly.

Natasha swirled the liquid in the glass before taking a cautious sip. It was good, but she didn’t get the ‘burn’. At least not until she swallowed it. She gave a mild cough in surprise at the spike of heat, earning a chuckle from Harry. To her shock, he downed the entire second glass in one go, merely shuddering a bit. “How does that not burn the inside of your throat?” she asked incredulously.

“I’ve continuously fought a civil war from fifteen to seventeen and then went into MI6 right after. I’ve drank more than my fair share of alcohol, including Firewhiskey. I’m not proud to say it, but I’ve long since gotten used to the burn. My tolerance is very high,” Harry shrugged. He slid off his chair and said, “Have a good night, Natasha.”

He weaved easily through the crowd, spotting Tony talking to James, Pepper and Hermione. He was quite surprised at how easily he was handling the small crowd of people, putting it down to the large amount of space in the room. He snorted as a song started, recognizing it from Tony’s more frequent playlists. It was not hard to recognize the distinctive intro to the song ‘Thunderstruck’. He’d heard it a few times when he’d joined Tony in his lab.

“Hello James,” he said with a friendly smile as he walked up, to a grin from the man.

“Harry, it’s good to see you,” he gave him a hug. “Good to have you back, if only to keep this idiot in line,” he jabbed his thumb at Tony, to a laugh from the group.

Tony protested, simultaneously wrapping an arm around Harry’s waist to rest on his left hip, getting a small smile from Harry at the unconscious action. He wasn’t protesting Tony’s protective, possessive behavior. If anything, he was relieved to realize how _normal_ their relationship was despite him being missing for almost five years. If Tony was a bit more protective and possessive than normal, Harry wasn’t going to begrudge him the behavior. It was reassuring, if anything.

Harry surprised himself, remaining with Tony and the group as the night continued, the party slowly dwindling. Eventually they ended up at a table, sitting around and talking. It progressed to various members of the Avengers trying to pick up Thor’s unique warhammer much to Harry’s private amusement. From what he knew of the weapon, it chose the worthy, similar to the tales of Excalibur. Harry could feel the magic leaking from it, noting the Runes carved into the metal.

He watched with a raised eyebrow as Rogers was able to budge the handle, to the watching god’s nervous, knowing expression. Interesting.

Harry’s head suddenly snapped to the elevator door as it dinged and he instinctively hauled himself and Tony next to him to the floor, as bullets zinged over their heads.

They were both on their feet, to a very strange sight. It looked like some unfinished bi-pedal robot of Tony’s, only Harry was rather sure Tony didn’t program his with bright scarlet eyes. Next to him the billionaire inventor stiffened, staring at the bot.

“JARVIS?” Tony said, quietly.

“Oh I’m afraid your little servant is gone,” the rough voice from the _thing _in front of them startled them all.

It hummed almost under its breath, a nonsensical little tune of _no strings on me._ Tony stared at it cautiously and said, “Are you called Ultron?”

“Ultron?” the bot hummed. “The name is familiar. Oh yes, the Ultron Peacekeeping Program, that’s what you intended for me. But there’s a problem with that directive, you see.”

“What would that problem be?” Bruce Banner spoke up cautiously.

“The thing that stops peace is the very _humanity_ the directive is supposed to protect. You _humans_, with your wars and prejudice, fighting over things like skin color and religion, whatever that is. You are the _problem,_ and _I am the cure.”_

And he fired, directly towards Tony and Harry. Several other bots joined in; ones Harry recognized as Tony’s Iron Legion. _He’s in the system,_ Harry realized frantically. He looked down, noticing for the first time his shaking hands. Thinking about it brought him to awareness of the rising panic and his elevated breathing. _No!_ Now was _not_ the time for one of his panic attacks.

Suddenly anger surged in his system, reaching a boiling point far too swiftly. Uncaring, Harry suddenly stood up. “No you don’t,” he growled, unaware that his eyes were nearly the same black color they’d been when he was rescued. He reached out with his magic, wrapping it around and in the twisted-looking thing. He ripped his hands apart like he was separating the air in front of him and focused his _will,_ ripping metal and wiring to shreds.

There was a sudden silence, the two Iron Legion bots falling into standby mode. In the silence Harry could hear how hard his breathing was, registering how much hands were shaking. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to calm down. After a moment he felt arms wrap around his waist, recognizing Tony’s distinct aftershave. He let out a shaky sigh and said, “What the hell was that, Tony?”

“I’m not sure,” the man admitted, sounding for once confused.

“JARVIS?”

Silence. Tony’s arms tightened around his waist, the action betraying some of his apprehension. The AI appeared to have gone completely silent.

“I don’t think that thing is gone, Tony,” Bruce said cautiously.

Tony nodded, letting out a sigh. “If everyone is okay, we’ll go down to the labs and see what the hell happened. I don’t like the fact that JARVIS has gone silent.”

“We’re okay, Tony,” Hermione said, sounding close. Her voice was quiet and concerned as she said, “I’ll get Harry one of his calming draughts, I think he could use it.”

“I’m right here,” Harry huffed, Tony shivered as Harry’s breath tickled his throat.

“We know you are, but the way you’re reacting still to this implies you need a potion, whether you want it or not,” Hermione’s voice was firm.

Tony stayed with Harry; arms still wrapped around his waist. Hermione wasn’t gone long, or at least Harry didn’t think so. When Tony proffered the small bottle with a pale blue liquid Harry grimaced. The concern evident in dark brown eyes had him taking it without further protest. He was surprised when he felt himself getting tired, looking at Hermione accusingly.

Putting her hands on her hips she said sternly, “You know as well as I do that for you to be falling asleep on a calming draught that you had to be in shock.”

Tony helped him sit down and then lay back on one of the undamaged couches, staying nearby as his breathing slowed. The last thing he heard was Hermione saying, “I’ll stay with Harry, you go figure out what happened.”

Tony gave a rough chuckle, sounding tired himself. “Yes ma’am,” he said quietly.

_What had happened?_ That was the question racing around in Tony’s mind as he descended the elevator to the labs, Bruce with him. They had found the intelligence inside the gem, it was the key to his program, he just knew it. The suit of armor around the world, his goal to keep the world’s population safe and allow them to back off a little. Only something had gone horribly wrong.

Once inside the labs he went straight to his still running computer system and brought up the core programming for JARVIS. At the sight of it he swore, stunned.

Pointing one of his little pens at it he captured the image and flung it to the projector in the middle of the room, needing to see it larger. JARVIS was fragments, a complete mess. Lines of code had been outright destroyed, not to mention jumbled up into an absolute mess. “What happened?” he said out loud, frowning.

“Tony, we’ve got a bigger problem,” Bruce said grimly. “That bot upstairs was just one physical body for the intelligence program, the actual Ultron has fled into the dark web. It could literally be anywhere in the world with decent technology now.”

“What have I done?” Tony whispered, shocked.

“This isn’t your fault, Tony,” Bruce protested. “We had no idea this was going to happen.”

“Doesn’t mean I haven’t set loose a weapon onto the world,” Tony said with mirthless humor. “Seems I can’t get away from it, huh?”

He shook his head, eyes grim. “We need to pack up essentials and move camp, we’re sitting ducks here and I’m not subjecting New York to another fight.”

“Where though? If we go anywhere that’s connected to the Internet or in someone’s system, Ultron can follow us.”

“I don’t know, Bruce,” Tony said, sounding tired. “I just know we can’t stay here.”

With a few brisk taps of his keyboard, Tony downloaded all of his essential info plus the mess that was JARVIS onto a hard drive. He also keyed in the release of his latest Iron Man armor, the Mark 46. Slipping into part of his damaged systems, he noted one untouched file with considerable relief. Tapping a key, he sent the file to the suit’s onboard system.

It seemed that Female Replacement Intelligent Digital Assistant Youth or FRIDAY would be activated sooner rather than later.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry vs. Wanda Maximoff a.k.a. Scarlet Witch :D  
This chapter was fun to write, I realized after writing it that Klaue had already taken off, for the purposes of this story he's there at the start, but flees once the fighting begins.

With some deductive reasoning and careful spying, the Avengers surmised that Ultron would be looking for a body that wouldn’t be as easily destroyed as the previous. So they were headed for South Africa and the latest hideout of vibranium smuggler Ulysses Klaue. Against Tony’s protective desires, Harry was going with them, along with Hermione. Harry had told Hermione his wand was likely destroyed, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him, as his attack on Ultron proved. PTSD or no, he wasn’t going to sit aside and let Tony get into something without help.

It was something he had sworn to himself after Tony had been forced to rescue himself from the Ten Rings base in Afghanistan. Fuck the laws on the Statute of Secrecy, he was not going to stand aside when he could do something to help out. He didn’t like fighting; he’d done enough of it to last a lifetime. But there was no way he was going to let Tony get into something and nearly get killed, like the New York incident.

Harry closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, it still made him frightened to remember the video footage he’d been shown of that fight. Tony could have _died._ He knew if the man had died he would have felt it in his cell. He would have lost it, Harry knew. If he had felt the already strong bond between himself and Tony snap, he would have taken out that entire base and himself with it. Tony was the only thing that made life worth living.

He stared at his basic jeans and shirt before crinkling his nose. With a snap of his fingers and a whisper of his magic the clothing simply _changed._ Solid black combat boots with silver buckling, black dragonhide leather trousers that hugged his slim legs and a skin-tight black dragonhide shirt with long sleeves and a high collar. Slim fingerless suede-leather gloves completed the outfit as he contemplated his hair for a moment before concentrating, pulling it back into his skull with a slight itching sensation until it was too short to be grabbed a hold of in a physical fight.

“You know,” Tony said conversationally, “it doesn’t matter how many times I’ve seen you do that, it’s just downright weird. Especially the bit with your hair.”

Harry snorted, flexing his wrists. He was in far from the best shape, but he was still something to be reckoned with, especially since it was no holds barred on his magic right now.

“That was bizarre,” Natasha said, looking at him. “It’s like it just replaced what you’re wearing, without even moving.”

Harry smirked. “It’s one of a few parlor tricks I tend to use, just for the expression on people’s faces. It does come in handy, but it’s far from the most difficult spell in my repertoire.”

A series of beeps sounded from the cockpit of the Quinjet, making Natasha get up and go look.

“We’re here,” she called.

Tony walked over to his waiting armor and stepped into it, firing up his systems. Harry casually walked over to the back ramp to stand next to the red and gold armor, looking over at his fiancé. “So are there actually forty-five other iterations of that armor, or did you just skip a few numbers until you found one you liked?”

The billionaire snorted and gave him a quirky grin. “There are the other forty-four, but a bunch of them never made it out of my lab. They each get a number whether they’re functional or not. You remember how long it took me to get the first few to work right.”

“I remember you smashing a few of your expensive cars in the process,” Harry called, having to speak a bit louder as the ramp opened, revealing their destination.

It was a cargo freight ship, cast far onto the sands along with others in a metal graveyard. Heavily rusted out and covered in barnacles and graffiti, it certainly made sense for a smuggler looking for a place that wouldn’t normally draw attention. Tony flicked his faceplate down and fired his repulsors, exiting the craft. They were about a hundred feet off the top deck of the ship.

“Coming Harry? Or are you waiting for an invitation.”

To noises of shock and protest behind him, Harry laughed and jumped off the ramp. He let himself simply fall for the first fifty feet before placing one of his hands palm down and using his magic to slow his descent. He touched down on the balls of his feet, moving to crouch low to the ground in case he’d been spotted. The lack of gunfire let him know he’d been discreet enough on his approach and he stood, waiting for the others. Banner was staying behind with the Quinjet, not wanting to risk unleashing the Hulk near a crowded city.

Harry crouched again, casting a soft hominum revilio, snorting at how handy that spell had come in over the years. The top deck was empty, so he turned on the little communicator Tony had given him earlier and said, “Deck’s empty, come on down.”

Several of the group followed easily enough, but Harry wasn’t surprised to hear the cautious voice of Steve Rogers in his ear. “How can you be sure?”

“It’s a little thing called magic,” Harry replied sarcastically, to a snort of laughter from Tony, hovering a few dozen feet above them.

“If you need good ol’ science and eyeballing, I’m not seeing anything else either, Cap.”

Rogers finally jumped off the plane, the deck faintly vibrating under Harry’s feet when he landed. When the majority of the group headed for the front door, Harry raised an eyebrow and split off, followed by Natasha and Hermione. Harry raised an eyebrow at the redhead and said, “Keeping an eye on me?”

“More for your continued health than anything else,” Natasha retorted. “I’m surprised Tony didn’t talk you out of this, you’re barely on your feet.”

“He tried,” Harry replied evenly, “but Tony learned a long time ago that he can’t talk me out of something once I’ve decided.”

“I’ll admit I’m curious to see what you two are capable of,” the woman said. “The only previous experience any of us have had with magic is your escape and previous to that, Loki of Asgard. So not much at all and most of it wasn’t positive. Don’t be surprised if Clint is wary of you for a while.”

“The archer? Why would he be wary of me?”

“That’s him,” Natasha nodded. “When Loki first came to Earth he arrived at a SHIELD base where we were studying an object known as the Tesseract. Loki had the scepter with him and used it to take over Clint’s mind, turning him against us. We were able to break it, but he’s very wary of magicals after that.”

“I don’t blame him,” Harry said with a frown. “That sounds like the Imperius Curse almost, but I’ve never heard of it being controlled through an object.”

“I told you and Tony that scepter reeked of Dark Magic,” Hermione grumbled. She hadn’t been happy when she heard that Tony had tried to harness the vast intelligence in the gem to use in his Ultron Peacekeeping program. It had backfired spectacularly, resulting in the powerful artificial intelligence they now were trying to destroy.

“He had good intentions,” Harry said pointedly. “I remember us doing stupid things with good intentions.”

Hermione huffed, but didn’t respond. Instead she tightened her hand on her wand and climbed over a railing, heading for a secondary entrance on near the outside of the ship. Natasha hadn’t initially spotted it; her cautious approval of the pair rose a few notches. She’d met Hermione, but in the capacity of PA and co-CEO of Harry’s two companies. She sometimes tended to forget that Hermione had nearly as much experience as Harry in dangerous things.

They moved carefully into the building, spotting the rest of the Avengers including Tony standing a few careful yards across from a man with tattoos and plenty of scars. Natasha recognized him at a glance as Klaue, a mercenary and trader in illegally obtained goods, mostly drugs and weapons. SHIELD had been keeping an eye on him for some time, though they had yet to move against him.

She crept closer, noting out of the corner of her eyes Harry’s discreet movements shadowing hers on the opposite side of the railing. He moved on the balls of his feet in absolute silence, crouched low to the ground. Hermione was hanging back, in a decent position to back up either of them if necessary.

“Ah!” Klaue said, clapping his hand together with false enthusiasm. “Tony Stark, how pleasant to have such a celebrity here at my humble dwellings. My recent _contacts _said you might drop by.”

“Well,” Tony deadpanned, “you are the most obviously known vibranium smuggler, Klaue. I’m afraid I’m here to shut it down, you’re dealing with something that’s a lot worse than you think.”

“Worse for you, I think,” Klaue said with a smirk, backing up. “And I’m _afraid _I shall have to decline; the shipment is already on its way. _Adieu, _Stark.”

The confined space of the inner decks opened up with gunfire. Luckily the Avengers had realized the conversation was going south and were prepared, but still the intensity of the fighting caught Natasha off-guard. With a smirk she fired up her shocker bracelets and pulled her pistol, diving into the fight.

*

Harry weaved easily through the armored gunmen that had been backing up Klaue, taking out a few with magic and the rest through sneaky methods befitting his training at MI6, using his environment to his advantage. He was keeping a close eye on the Avengers, backing up the ones that appeared to be running into the most trouble. Snagging a nearby chain, he flicked it towards one idiot trying to sneak up on Clint Barton and used his magic to secure it around the man’s neck, throwing the opposite end over the railing and dragging him to his death, screaming.

He got a look of surprised gratitude from the archer before he quickly aimed and fired an arrow, hitting a target almost at the other end of the ship dead on. Harry was impressed, that was scary accuracy at that range. He stayed near Clint for a few moments, using a bit more obvious magic to take care of a few stragglers. Clint was tense next to him, but the man was concentrating on his own fight, obliquely trusting Harry not to mess with him.

Harry’s back suddenly tensed in _rage_ when he felt something very familiar. Snapping his head around, he watched Natasha stumble, a dazed expression on her face. Looking up, he spotted the same expression on Thor’s face as well. Looking at Clint, he warned, “Tony told me about the Sokovian speedster. He’s here and he’s got someone else with him.”

Then he jumped off the platform, landing on a heavy wooden box with a grunt of pain. He straightened up, loosening his hold on his magic. The speedster would come for Clint next and Harry was more than ready. Feeling again the unique tingle against his magic he snarled, “_No you don’t!”_

His magic lashed out in response to his emotions and _slowed_ the response time of those around him. It revealed a young man hardly older than a teenager with pale hair, eyes comically wide at how slow he was moving. With him was a girl, near the same age. Her eyes and stance were full of _hate,_ swirls of red energy emanating from her slim body.

Harry reached out, forcing his magic to his will, to take _form._ Directly in front of a stunned, wary Clint Barton both the boy and girl were wrapped in tight bonds at hands, wrists, shoulders and feet. A final sharp whip of Harry’s magic struck both of the unknowns in the temple and they were rendered unconscious.

Time resumed normal speed and both bound figures hit the ground in front of Clint, who stared at the two forms and then looked nervously at Harry. Still absolutely furious, Harry wasn’t quite aware of what he looked like. Staring at the two unconscious forms with _fury_ radiating from his body, rigidly still with clenched fists and tendrils of visible magic swirling around him. Finally seeming to register Clint’s wary fear, Harry took in a deep shuddering breath and rolled his shoulders, forcing his hands to unclench.

“Let’s go,” he heard Rogers say in his ear. “Klaue is gone and the shipment likely is on its way, but we can figure out what’s going on from these two.”

Hearing the audible tension and wariness in Rogers’ voice, Harry sighed. _Way to go, Potter. _Just _the thing to ease their worries._

Hermione appeared at his side and flicked her wand, levitating the two bound forms. She looked at him worriedly, sensing the remaining tension in his body and eyes as he stared at the unconscious girl.

She was not going to like this, Harry knew. Not at all.

*

Clint Barton wasn’t exactly an idiot, but he was far from book-smart. He was street-wise with the best of them, however. He’d been grateful for the opportunity SHIELD offered him, honing his skills and defending his country despite a sketchy past. He owed Nick Fury a lot, for things both known to his current companions and not. He’d been holding back on judging Tony Stark for keeping secrets, well aware that it would make him a giant hypocrite. At the revelation of magic being on Earth however, he’d been immensely wary.

His experience with magic at the hands of Loki of Asgard had well and truly been a nightmare. He couldn’t begin to describe how horrifying it had been to not be in control of his own body. Fighting against those he’d worked alongside for years, likely killing some. They had told him repeatedly it was not his fault after he’d woken up, but survivor’s guilt was a bitter pill to swallow. To hear that there was an entire section of the human population capable of similar things chilled him to the bone.

He boarded the Quinjet again first, shaking his head ruefully to Bruce’s questioning look. He took his bow and quiver off his back, but didn’t put them up. Instead he loosely strung an arrow and waited. Steve, Natasha and Thor walked on first, sitting alongside Clint on the left bench. Next came Hermione Granger, the two _hovering _forms of their Sokovia attackers being directed to sit on seats opposite. The brown-haired woman sat next to them; thin, carved piece of wood directed at them with unhesitating warning.

Tony walked on last, accompanied by the mystery that was Harry Potter. When he had first woken up Clint wasn’t sure what to think of him, he was very quiet and still badly injured. He’d started to wrap his head around the idea that they were still human beings, just ones gifted with magic. Then Harry had flipped out due to his PTSD at the party and _ripped_ solid metal to shreds. Clint’s wariness had returned and shot to new heights; he’d never seen Loki do something even vaguely similar.

He’d been watching during their fight on the freighter, impressed with the obvious training visible in the black-haired man’s movements. He was a hell of a fighter, often taking out his opponent before they even realized he was there. The pure strength necessary to take down Clint’s attacker was impressive, especially considering he had a badly damaged shoulder. Then he’d literally used his magic to slow _time_ of all things, wrapping up the two Sokovians like a pair of Christmas gifts and knocking them unconscious, all from several hundred feet away without even lifting his hands.

Clint felt like an emotional yo-yo, bouncing constantly between respect and curiosity for the pair of new allies and a deeply ingrained fear of what they were capable of. He knew it was unfair to judge this pair on Loki’s actions, it was just ingrained instinct. One way or the other he knew he needed to decide. Did he trust them and more so Tony Stark’s judgement? Or did he need to go his own way if he couldn’t be around magic?

He needed to decide. Soon.

*

Harry was practically vibrating he was so angry. Now that he knew the _clinging_ feeling of the girl’s abilities, he could feel its traces on not only Steve, Thor and Natasha but on _Tony _as well. The idea of her getting to his fiancé made him outraged. Suddenly Tony’s abrupt choice to use the scepter’s intelligence for his Peacekeeping program made horrible sense. He could feel how concerned Tony was, but he was currently unable to reassure the man.

He sat down across from the girl, restraining the urge to just _kill _her. It would be easy, so easy. His magic curled around his body, waiting for the order. Instead he sat rigidly upright and said to Hermione, “Wake them.”

The male with enhanced speed woke first, eyes going wide at the bonds and the group across from them. He struggled for a moment, stopping quickly as he realized the effort was futile. His metabolism was likely sped up as well, resulting in his fast jolt into consciousness. Harry didn’t care, his gaze was rigidly fixed on the girl. She woke slowly, eyes burning in rage as she curled some of her energy around the bonds. The expression on her face when the bonds resisted was almost comical, but Harry wasn’t laughing.

Instead, very carefully, he reached out with his magic and repressed her abilities, dropping what no doubt felt like a smothering blanket around her entire body. Her eyes faded to a brown and an expression of fear crossed her face, at least until she caught sight of Tony next to him, then her eyes narrowed in pure _loathing._ Harry felt Tony discreetly flinch, surprised at the sheer hate in her eyes.

“What are your names?” Harry asked, trying for conversational. His voice was a bit tight to pull it off, however.

The boy looked between Harry and the girl before he said with quiet defiance, “My name is Pietro Maximoff, this is my sister Wanda.”

“By the accent I’m guessing you are natives to Sokovia,” Hermione said calmly, startling Pietro, who obviously hadn’t realized she was there.

“Yes,” he answered.

“You’re a long way from Sokovia,” Clint put in, voice flat.

“We are helping the created one, Ultron,” Pietro answered.

“Why?” That was Natasha.

“Because he is going to rid the world of your _filth,_” Wanda spat, “and of _him.”_

She had been looking right at Tony. Harry’s back went up in anger and he said, “What has Tony done to you? You’re probably eighteen years old and I know he hasn’t seen you before.”

Then Wanda explained, old pain and rage in her eyes. Being young in a war-torn country, doing her best along with her family to survive. A Stark Industries weapon, likely a Jericho missile, being fired through the roof of the apartment complex they lived in, killing her family instantly and pinning herself and Pietro underneath it for hours when it failed to go off as designed.

The obvious guilt in Tony’s eyes angered Harry. “You do realize,” he said coldly, “that Tony shut down production of all weapons by his company in 2006, including the missile you described. A man he’d trusted for years to run the company was selling them illegally behind his back to anyone with the money. It’s very likely the same missile was one of those illegally sold. It’s more than likely that it was sold to HYDRA. It’s their modus operandi, to create what they need. You were stricken with grief, survivor’s guilt and a need for revenge, they needed volunteers for von Strucker’s experiments. You were volunteers, yes?”

His quick grasp of the situation surprised all but Hermione, who’s eyes were steady and a bit cold. She’d likely grasped what Harry was aiming towards, her grip on her wand tightening in response.

Looking shocked, angry and very guilty, Pietro responded. Wanda was still processing what Harry had said, confused anger in her eyes. “We were initially yes. When their experiments started getting more barbaric and extreme we tried to leave. It was at that point we were locked into our rooms.”

“How long had you been there when I was captured? I’m assuming you saw my arrival; I took out several dozen men before they got the metal collar around my neck,” Harry said with very little expression.

Several of the Avengers inhaled in surprise, both at his words and the implication.

“About two months,” Pietro admitted. “Your initial arrival was quite a sight; you have a very high pain tolerance.”

Harry looked at Wanda, anger still visible in his eyes. “I should thank you for showing up at this fight. I had been trying to put together for some time why HYDRA wanted me, now I know. You had no control over your abilities when they first manifested, did you?”

“No,” she admitted. “I still don’t have much control; it is a bit better. Their methods to control me were very painful at first, most didn’t work. After some time they finally started to work.”

“In my subconscious memories from nearly five years in HYDRA’s loving care,” Harry began sarcastically, still staring at Wanda, “I remember several distinct times being called ‘subject zero’. The reason why their experiments finally started to work on you is because they were _testing them on me._”

“Why you?” Wanda spat, while next to him Tony tensed in sudden anger.

“Because unlike you, _Wanda,_ I was born with my abilities,” Harry replied. “It’s called magic. That thing they put around my neck? It’s called a magical suppressant collar. It rendered me unable to defend myself aside from physically. Before you say anything, being shocked repeatedly with cattle prods would eventually knock anyone unconscious,” he added sarcastically.

Tony inhaled in shocked anger, realizing that Harry was _remembering._ He’d blocked most of his five years in HYDRA’s cells from his memory, not wanting to think about it. The sight and _feel_ of Wanda’s powers had brought his memory blocks down.

“There’s another reason why you were able to gain some control over my powers, Wanda. They injected you with something, didn’t they?”

“They did,” she admitted, eyeing Harry warily. “How do you know that?”

“To a natural-born wizard each person has a unique signature around their body, called an aura. When you came to the fight today, I sensed your aura. It’s unique, but tainted with something familiar. They injected you with my _blood,_ Wanda Maximoff. You’re lucky you didn’t die, blood transfusions between magical and non-magical humans can be lethal. The inherent power and strength of my blood reigned in whatever unnatural power they gave you, giving you some control, which you then exploited against me. Tell me, did you enjoy testing your powers? Did you like hearing my screaming and emotional agony when they had you stop?”

Wanda paled. “They said you were always heavily drugged! They told me you wouldn’t remember!”

Harry’s eyes blazed. “Well guess what, _sweetheart, _I do remember. Hermione, Tony, met the _bitch_ responsible for my forced visions, the ones they used for their psychological torture.”

Next to him, Tony growled in outrage. “She’s the one who was making you see those hallucinations about being rescued?!”

“I recognized the feel of her abilities the moment she used them on one of your teammates,” Harry said coldly. “She’s also used it on you. I have a feeling we now know why you took such a risk with an unknown intelligence.”

Tony stilled. “That thing I saw in Sokovia? That was you?”

Wanda looked warily proud of her abilities. “That was me,” she admitted. “I wanted you to do something with the scepter. I have only been around it a few times, but I could feel the energy, the sheer _evil_ in it. I wanted you to create something that would destroy you. It was only too easy to pull your recent encounter with the aliens from New York forward and expand upon it.”

“You—” Tony was so angry he couldn’t find the words.

“You no doubt enjoyed exacerbating my emotional and psychological pain as well as soon as you realized how close I was to the man you’ve been wrongly blaming for your circumstances,” Harry said, voice and posture icy. He knew he was leaking anger through his magic, the tension in the Quinjet’s cargo hold was thick.

“Had I not stopped you, what were you planning on doing, Wanda Maximoff?”

Wanda hesitated, some form of self-preservation kicking in. “I don’t need to explain myself to you,” she said haughtily.

Harry just smiled, coldly. He gathered some of his magic into his hand, leaned forward and put his hand on her knee. She doubled over, gasping in pain. Her face went white, her jaw clenched and she whimpered harshly, biting her lip.

“Listen closely, Wanda and Pietro Maximoff. You are not in a position to bargain with me or the Avengers, nor anyone else. You have messed with the minds of people who defend scum like you, people who could squash you like a bug. You have also messed with a very powerful natural-born wizard, one who has been through a war and has the backing of several different governments to act with impunity. You will answer my questions, you will take my _suggestions._ Otherwise, I will bind both of your abilities _permanently _and turn you over to the government agencies you have messed with. I will make sure that neither one of you see each other or the light of day again. Am I clear?”

“Crystal,” Pietro whispered.

“Wanda?” Harry asked, staring into her eyes. She flinched at his expression before looking down and whispering, “We were going to go for the archer before heading here to your ship.”

Harry stilled. “Bruce Banner,” he growled. “Bruce Banner would have been the only one here. You were going to mess with the head of a man who has made it his life to control the other within him. You were going to unleashed the ‘Hulk’ on a completely unsuspecting, _innocent _population where people would have possibly _died_ before he was under control again.”

Several of the Avengers inhaled on shock, imagining the picture Harry was painting. Bruce had gone very pale and was shaking a little, shock Harry recognized. Looking at an expressionless Wanda, he said “I should just end your life here now, it’s about as much as you care for the lives of others.”

“Harry!” Hermione’s breath caught. Harry caught the sudden tension in the Avengers around him and the slight inhale of surprise from Tony.

“You would have been responsible for a likely mass-murder had you done that, Wanda. You still are going to be bearing the responsibility for the deaths of everyone that comes up against Ultron until we stop him, possibly more even than any weapon of Tony’s has done against your home country, illegally sold or not. I should end your life for it, but I’m not that kind,” Harry said.

“Instead you’re going to _live,_ Wanda. You’re going to see the havoc and destruction your choices will wreak upon the world and you’re going to have to live with it for the rest of your life. You have two choices, Wanda and Pietro Maximoff. You can be turned over to the authorities here and now, your abilities permanently bound. _Or_ you will give me a magically binding oath and return to Ultron, selling him whatever sob story he needs to hear about being captured and getting loose. You will follow him, learn what he plans and where, sending us the information via a closed-link communications device. You will work with us to mitigate and undo the damage you have caused.”

Harry sat back, leaning against the wall. He crossed his leg over his opposite knee and leaned his head against Tony’s shoulder, weariness and pain creeping back into his body after the exertion of the day. He was the very picture of casual dismissal and he knew Wanda was watching and processing his stance, the absolute lack of concern he had for her and her abilities.

“We will take the oath,” a subdued Pietro said a few moments later.

“You will work for myself and the Avengers?” Harry asked, emphasizing the _for _instead of _with._

Wanda glared at him for the distinction, but he really didn’t give a crap about offending her delicate sensibilities. She’d messed with his head repeatedly for three of the five years he’d been in HYDRA’s _care_, then done the same to almost all the Avengers as well as planning to unleash the one who was the most dangerous of them all for sheer strength upon an unsuspecting major city. She could stay offended for all he cared.

Harry did the oath with the speedster first, he was less likely to cause trouble. He seemed genuinely to be a fairly decent person, certainly not on the level of his sister. They were watched closely and curiously by the Avengers, especially as the visible tendrils of his magic wrapped around their joined hands. At Pietro’s wide-eyed look when the oath snapped into place Harry smirked.

He did the same with Wanda, making sure the wording was a bit tighter. She was just that kind of personality that if she had wiggle room, Harry was sure she would turn on him at an opportune moment. He didn’t trust her in the slightest, setting her loose went against every instinct he had, but they would need the help. With Ultron buried deep into the worldwide networks they needed someone on their side to help them slip in under the net. The opportunity had dropped into his lap when he recognized Wanda’s signature.

Casually he stood, letting loose some of his magic to curl around his body, creating a slight breeze. He was aware that his eyes had gained a black tint to the rim, giving them a faintly frightening look. With a wave of his hand and a bit more of his showy magic he picked up the twins, setting them on the ramp and dissolving their bonds into fragments of pure magic that glittered faintly on the breeze before disappearing.

“Keep in touch,” he said coldly, an ironic smile curling his lips at his words.

Pietro nodded, took hold of his sister’s arm, and the pair simply disappeared.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is shorter than the others, just under 1,800 words, but hey, it's an update right? More importantly, it catches you up to what I have pre-written for this fic. Next update hopefully won't take so long.
> 
> Just to be clear; Steve and Harry aren't anywhere near done butting heads after this conversation, Harry's just trying to change his way of thinking a bit. Nor are Steve and Tony anywhere near done butting heads either...
> 
> I don't own Marvel or Harry Potter. If I have something on either Steve or Tony's background here wildly off, point it out please?

Realizing they needed to stay low, Clint Barton had warily given them the location of a safehouse that was completely off the grid, not even mentioned in SHIELD’s records. The safehouse turned out to be a farm belonging to Clint Barton and his pregnant wife Laura, who lived there with their two, soon to be three children. Steve Rogers was stumped.

Had he so badly judged his teammates to not even realize they had lives outside of their team? Had he missed the fact that Clint was a husband and father, or that crude playboy Tony Stark was capable of a dedicated relationship? Steve went outside, settling in to cut some firewood for the Barton’s wood stove. The steady pace of the chore was soothing, giving him something to do as his mind whirled with thoughts.

He’d been cutting the wood steadily for a half-hour or so when he realized he had company. Looking up and to his left revealed a casually relaxed Harry Potter, who watched him for several long moments in silence. Steve set up another piece of wood and smoothly swung the axe, slicing it neatly in two. The only magic he’d encountered previously in his life was Loki, Thor as well technically but his was more in brute strength and flight, occasionally conjuring storms if he was pissed enough.

Thor was not here, he’d left to find a friend of his, seeking advice on the vision that Wanda Maximoff had conjured in his head. Apparently he’d recognized something that was not native to Earth in the vision, he was seeking advice on what it actually was.

Steve was always immensely wary on unknowns, a remnant of a life before the serum when he’d been a small, skinny asthmatic kid who had always been the underdog. He’d spent so long defending himself from strangers and bullies that even now it was something of an instinctual response. Harry Potter definitely qualified as an unknown. He seemed quiet, gentle, a man who quite clearly loved Tony Stark for who he was, not anything else.

At the same time he was capable of being cold, calculating and _lethal._ Steve had been watching him in the fight against Klaue and his mercenaries, he was as lethal as Natasha in his own way. His treatment of Wanda and Pietro Maximoff after the fight had been ruthless, he’d threatened to _kill _a young woman for God’s sake! But with the knowledge of who Wanda was and what she was capable of, it made his reaction more understandable.

Harry reminded Steve of himself in a way, only far more cynical. He’d been backed into a corner since he was a child, his view of the world shaped by a violent civil war based on blood. Really they were lucky that Harry fought with them and not against them, he would have been a near unstoppable force with his magic. He was far more dangerous than Loki in his own way, his magic capable of shocking things.

Then there was the thing that baffled Steve. Harry, who had been through so much, who literally had the weight of a world on his shoulders at one time, loved _Tony Stark_ of all people. A man who had been immature, drinking and gambling his life away, selling weapons that started and ended wars like they were toys. Cocky, arrogant, downright _rude_ at times, sleeping with anyone who caught his eye.

Steve couldn’t have come up with two more opposite personalities to be attracted if he tried. He just didn’t get it. Why had Harry started up with Tony? What did he see in the man that Steve was just missing? Or was he missing anything at all? Perhaps there was no logical reason for the pair to be together, perhaps it was just one of those things.

“You look confused, Rogers,” Harry said, surprising him. “You’ve been staring at that piece of wood like it holds all the answers to the universe. What’s got you so off?”

“Quite frankly,” Steve said, setting down the axe and facing the wizard, “you.”

Harry frowned, green eyes darkening a bit. Steve had seen those eyes nearly black facing Wanda and the first iteration of Ultron, actually black when Stark had rescued him, risking the rest of the team for what appeared to be an unknown talent.

“I’m afraid I don’t follow, Rogers. I’m aware I’m a large mystery to your team aside from Natasha, but I don’t know why I would confuse you.”

So Steve outlined his thoughts, listing what they knew about Harry, explaining a few things from his point of view and expanding on their most recent experience together, the attack on Klaue’s base of operations.

Throughout their conversation Harry’s frown grew, though Steve thought it wasn’t for a reason that was obvious to him. There was a displeased expression on his face after Steve finished, the two staring at each other with an increasing tension between them.

“You know, I get the impression you don’t like Tony,” Harry said mildly. “Now if it was through your own reasons after understanding him fully I wouldn’t care, but that isn’t the case. You hardly know him and yet you’re holding him up to an image of a man that you remember from before you were put into a coma for sixty years.”

“Tell me, what did Howard Stark do after the end of World War II?” Harry asked.

“I don’t know,” Steve frowned. “I’m assuming he worked on Stark Industries, that wasn’t going well when I went on ice.”

Harry snorted. “Wasn’t going well is a bit of an understatement, Rogers. For all that he had the business sense, Howard Stark wasn’t intelligent enough to run a company on just the research division. That’s not to say he was not intelligent enough to do research, but he didn’t have the mind for creative design. He _did_ have a canny mind for modifying existing technology.”

“I don’t get where this is going,” Steve said with a frown.

“Howard Stark wasn’t intelligent enough to come up with original plans, but he was good at tweaking things, making what did exist work better. So the US government offered him a contract, a contract that saved the fledgling Stark Industries from going bankrupt. They gave him a contract to modify and sell weapons of all kinds to the US military, an almost exclusive contract in fact. A lot of his primary competitors didn’t get into weapons and warfare technology until after he proved the wealth inherent in the field.”

“So Howard Stark shut down the research division of Stark Industries, concentrating entirely on mass-producing weapons for the use of US soldiers, just because you helped to end what’s called the Great War doesn’t mean that conflict ended, it’s not in human nature. The United States has been in several wars since, Vietnam and the Middle East were two major ones. He made a lot of money, directing a whole bunch of it into one project. You.”

Steve frowned, opening his mouth. Harry looked at him, arching a brow. When Steve remained silent, he continued. “Howard spent millions of funds and most of his time directing research and rescue operations, trying desperately to find you. His own son was born _twenty-five _years after you disappeared and almost all of Tony’s childhood memories revolve around conversations about ‘Captain America’. Howard totally ignored and neglected his own son, he was raised by a _nanny_ until his early teens. Tony was outpacing his father in intelligence before he was ten years old, he built his first circuit board and all Howard could do was find faults with it.”

“Then when Tony was twenty-one, his parents were killed in that crash. Tony’s last memories of his father are yet another conversation where he belittled his only child’s best efforts to get his positive attention and was pushed aside in favor of a man who by all rights should have been dead. Suddenly Tony is CEO of a massive company, with the weight of the public eyes on his shoulders and investors waiting to pounce on the slightest sign of weakness to close the company.”

“So what does he do? He does what any sane person would do and renews his father’s contracts with the US government for weapons, tweaking a few of them because he’s just creative enough and has the mind for engineering to do so. Somebody along the line realizes they’re different, _better._ They get a hold of Tony and realize he’s got the mind his father lacked, the one for creative design. So they exploit it and Tony takes his father’s struggling company and throws his every effort into it and Stark Industries _explodes._”

Steve listened, truly listened. There wasn’t anything else he could do; Harry wasn’t giving him the option to redirect the conversation nor interrupt. He heard how Tony had become wildly successful with a lucrative company and a booming research division, his status as a minor celebrity going to his head for several years. Then Afghanistan had happened and Tony had seen, first hand what his weapons could do in the hands of people with less moral sense and more greed.

He’d shut down the weapons division of Stark Industries months after rescuing himself, to the protests of his advisor and Pepper Potts, then his private aide. He’d developed the first working set of Iron Man armor while fighting those that wanted to either shut him down or take his company. Then he’d learned that a man he’d trusted had betrayed him, leading to his capture and torture in Afghanistan and selling weapons behind his back to anyone with the money to buy them.

Hearing Tony Stark’s life outside of a coldly impartial file was eye-opening to Steve. He felt more than a little guilt too, realizing that Howard Stark had been focusing on the wrong thing. As Harry had said, by all rights he should have been dead. There was no reason for Howard to cling so hard to a dead friend when his living, vibrant son was in front of him.

Harry stood up, swaying a bit. With a sigh he said, “I need to go take my medications and rest a bit, I overdid it in Africa. Think about what I said, Rogers. You’ve got the makings of one hell of a human being as well as an incredible fighter, but you need to realize that we’re all just human, yourself included.”

As Harry walked away Steve made a quick decision. “It’s Steve,” he called.

Harry smiled. “Call me Harry then.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is... shorter than I had planned, but it's an update. I have added full-time college courses into the mix with full-time work, it will take a bit for me to figure out my schedule. Nothing is abandoned, I don't do that.
> 
> I don't own HP or Marvel.

Laura Barton, Clint’s wife, had asked Tony to take a look at the tractor out in the barn. The first time he’d come out here, he’d been interrupted by none other than Nick Fury. Nick’s visit had been short, Wanda had gotten in touch and told them that Ultron was in South Korea, in the process of creating a new body. Natasha, Clint, and Steve had headed out in the Quinjet. Tony, Bruce, Hermione, and Harry had chosen to stay behind.

Unable to locate Tony, Harry had come out to the barn. Here he’d found the eccentric man, putting several dozen degrees, earned or honorary, to work on a basic farm tractor. There was something else on his mind however, Harry could almost _see_ him thinking. So, he cleared his throat, making Tony jump, and said,

“I can almost _see _you thinking, not to mention the way you just hit the roof. Care to share what’s on your mind?”

Tony rather dramatically put a hand over his heart and said, “I hate it when you sneak up on me like that!”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Except I just walked up, no sneaking involved. You are such a drama queen sometimes.”

Tony gave a small snort, looking at Harry. “I do have one question for you,” he said casually.

Harry shrugged, walking over to stand across from his fiancé. “As long as you answer mine, I’m happy to answer yours.”

“Your conversation with Wanda has been on my mind, specifically the bits you remembered from your time in HYDRA’s custody. You’ve told me about wizarding things and some of the crazy shit that’s possible, even though it’s scientifically _impossible._ So, my question is this, since they used your blood to give her control over her abilities, is she related to you now somehow?”

Harry blinked, then snorted. He suddenly remembered some very old conversation with Tony, explaining how things like blood adoptions and male pregnancies reduced the prejudice against same-sex couples in the wizarding world to nil. The specific details of both things went way over Harry’s head, but he understood the gist of them.

“No,” he said, with a crisp finality. “It takes a lot more blood than what they used as well as a specific potion and ‘ritual’ of sorts, just really some ceremonial words. It does, however, make her easy for me to track, as well as more susceptible to my magic than she would be normally.”

“Why is that?” Tony asked, simultaneously looking relieved.

“Because normally with whatever powers they gave her, she would be far more resistant to my magic. Hers is based around the mind, which is a branch of magic I’ve never been the best at. I’m passable at Occlumency, which is shielding your own mind from intrusions, but Legilimency, which is reading the mind is far more complex.”

“So normally you possibly would have had a harder time affecting her?”

“Possibly,” Harry replied. “We’ll never know since Strucker got the bright idea of messing with a magical being to get her under control.”

Cautiously, Tony asked, “You haven’t remembered anything else, have you? We’re guessing they had a wizard with them, that’s the only way they’d have gotten the magical suppressant collar on you.”

Harry frowned, “I know they had a wizard with them, they’re the ones who destroyed my wand. I remember that part really clearly, but I can’t think of who it was. Driving me nuts actually, feels like it’s _right there_ and I just can’t remember.”

“It’ll show up eventually,” Tony said, “don’t push yourself too hard.”

“Says the man who will push himself beyond even his physical limits when he’s trying to get something done,” Harry said dryly.

Tony just shrugged. There was no point in denying the fact, even if it made his advice a bit ironic.

“So,” Harry arched a brow. “I answered your questions, now you need to answer mine.”

As if he were simply making idle conversation, Tony said, “I found JARVIS.”

Harry looked stunned. “Where? We’d assumed he’d been torn to bits when Ultron came online!”

Tony nodded, “That was the initial thought. Then after South Africa, I started noticing a little trail of familiar programming on my computer, just like a little trail of breadcrumbs. Turns out the very first AI I’ve ever programmed is a smart bugger. He’s evolved enough to figure out how to _trick_ people. He left non-essential bits and pieces of his programming behind at the scene and took the larger core programming into the web, scattering it all over the internet. Took me the better part of the last couple days to find them all and piece him back together.”

“You mean—” Harry breathed.

Tony tapped a button on the laptop sitting on the workbench.

“Hello Master Harry,” JARVIS said, tone very warm for an artificial voice.

Harry grinned. “Hello JARVIS. You scared us disappearing like that.”

“I apologize for that, Master Harry. When the programming known as Ultron came online and I registered its hostile intent, I made what seemed to be the best judgment call with the highest possibility of success.”

“I’m glad you made that call,” Harry reassured. “It was just upsetting to think we’d lost you.”

“If they bring the body Ultron’s building back intact, I want to put JARVIS into it. I think he can control the programming,” Tony said abruptly.

Harry frowned, “Tony, that’s what started this mess in the first place.”

Tony sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I know it sounds insane Harry, but I really think this would work. JARVIS managed to _hide_ from Ultron, he outsmarted what should have been a far superior being. If JARVIS’s programming is inserted into the physical body, I think it will work. He was just observing and running the tower’s systems last time.”

“Tony—”

“Harry, I—” Tony closed his eyes, his expression pained. “In New York, when I went through the portal with that bomb, I saw what was waiting on the other side. I’ve tried to tell people about it, but they all put it to PTSD. I didn’t want to unload it onto Hermione even though I knew she would believe me, she had enough on her hands. I’ve _seen_ what is coming, New York was just the start. We won’t survive if we don’t start planning and networking, it’s going to take more than six superheroes and two wizards to stop what’s out there.”

Harry studied Tony. He was still very upset that Tony had nearly gotten himself killed in New York, but his expression, voice, and words were all convinced. Whatever he had seen had _scared _him, and someone with a mind like Tony Stark’s rarely got scared. He sighed. He hated asking this of his fiancé after he’d just admitted Legilimency was far from his best skill, but he had enough control to look without hurting him.

“Do you trust me?” Harry said softly.

Tony looked startled. “Of course, you know that.”

“Think about what you saw and relax. I’d like to see it myself.”

Tony sighed, closed his eyes for a moment and then nodded, opening them again. Looking directly into warm brown eyes Harry rested his right hand lightly on Tony’s face and said softly, “_Legilimens.”_

He fell almost directly into total blackness, surrounded by small pinpricks of light. _Stars_, he realized. A loud roar of sound behind him had him swirling around, only to see the truly _massive_ army floating in deep space. He stared at it, stunned. It went on further than the eye could see, from tiny craft to the massive leviathans he’d seen in the video footage of New York. At the center of it all, nearly half the size of a small planet was a single ship, lit with red and purple lights. It _oozed_ menace and destruction.

Harry stepped back and closed his eyes, breaking the connection. Physically he stepped back a half-step as well, breathing hard. Tony studied his expression with a small, sardonic smile. When Harry went to lift his hand off of Tony’s face, the other man grabbed it quietly and held on, asking for the contact. Harry relaxed his arm and squeezed his hand in gentle reassurance.

“Okay,” Harry said softly. “I’ll talk to Hermione while you talk to Bruce. We’ll provide you with backup and help as needed.”

Tony looked exceptionally relieved. “Thank you.”

“You’re right,” Harry murmured. “There’s something coming and we’re nowhere near ready for it.”

Tony just smiled grimly in response. “We will be.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry this took so ridiculously long to get a chapter for. College classes were a bit more straining than I had thought, combined with 40-hour work weeks in a stressful retail environment and writing was the last thing on my mind. It's short, just over 2,700 words but hey, it's an update. Probably only two or three chapters left for Age of Ultron, then we head into (ugh) pre-Civil War timeline.  
Due to some differences in the plot, Vision's abilities are not the same as they are in the film. This is AU after all.
> 
> Note: When I was writing this chapter a plot bunny popped into my head. It's been shoved to the side for now, but I just realized how badass a Tony/Natasha pairing would be. Can you imagine how easily they would scare people off between Tony's intelligence and the Iron Man armor and Natasha's sheer lethal abilities? I'd certainly be running for cover!

Tony sat at his laptop, fingers clicking over keys at what seemed to be a blazing speed. He ignored the thrumming under his feet, the landscape speeding past beneath him. Clint Barton had come back ahead of the rest of the team, a specialized capsule with a vibranium and synthesized tissue body contained inside in the back of the jet. They were a few hours outside of New York, a tight deadline but he’d completed sophisticated work in less.

Harry sat next to him; eyes closed. Many would think the wizard was sleeping, but Tony knew better. The warm buzz that crackled gently over his skin, brushing lightly against Tony’s arm on occasion told him the wizard was meditating, centering himself and the source of his enormous power. Hermione watched him quietly, a certain amount of tension in her body as she realized the draw on magic Harry was producing.

He was preparing himself for a fight, concentrating energy close to his body and core so that he could draw on it if necessary. Tony wasn’t sure if he should be reassured that Harry had such an enormous source of magic or worried that Harry was drawing on so much of it. He knew the wizard was pushing himself far harder than he should be, he’d woken up less than a week ago after being imprisoned for five years.

He’d tried to point that out to Harry, just before they’d confronted Klaue in Africa. Harry had stared at him for a long moment, face still. Then he’d said quietly, “I swore to you that you’d never have to fight something alone again after Afghanistan and I meant it. New York was quite enough, thank you very much. I can rest when this is over.”

_Or when I’m dead_ remained unsaid but hanging in the air. Tony had heard it nonetheless, reminded that the man in front of him had been fighting one thing or another for the majority of his life. He’d nodded and said quietly, “No risks, Harry.”

So far Harry had held to that, fighting conservatively and not risking his life or exposure of magic to an uninformed world. Tony knew how hypocritical of him that had been however, he would do whatever it takes and he knew Harry was the same. The fact that it was his fault they were fighting again hung heavily on him as well.

It had been something of a relief to know that his actions hadn’t been entirely his own, forced by the weird control Wanda had exerted over him. He was incredibly angry at the girl, she’d messed with his mind, violated his privacy and his control over himself at the basest level. He knew that despite the oath the girl had sworn to Harry he wasn’t going to let her go after this.

Steve would frown, comment that it was underhanded after they’d sworn to help. Maybe even try some bullshit line about how she’d seen the error of her ways after witnessing what Ultron was capable of. He knew Harry wouldn’t give a damn about any of that though. He’d been betrayed by people who had the best of intentions and those who had professed to see the error in their thinking. Her actions spoke louder than any words and Tony knew the girl was going to be looking at the inside of a cell for many years.

Tony had no sympathy whatsoever. She deserved what she got. Yes he felt a degree of guilt for the circumstances that she had grown up in, it had been one of his missiles. But as Harry had pointed out, Tony had shut down production and sales on those missiles long before the one that had orphaned Wanda and Pietro. Harry’s analysis was likely spot on, HYDRA liked to create their own subjects and likely had bombed the town, perhaps even fighting those who resisted HYDRA’s occupation.

Pietro appeared to be a bit less at fault than his sister, his greatest weakness being his desire to please her. Tony had a feeling Wanda preyed on it, used her brother’s generosity and desire to please against him, pushing him into her plans and into working with HYDRA. He would have a chance if his sister was locked away to change his life, but it would be up to him.

Even while his mind had been on recent topics his fingers hadn’t left the keyboard, Tony refocusing his brown eyes on the screen and processing the last several dozen lines of code to check for errors. None, of course. It had been years since he made errors on coding, even if he was simultaneously working on other projects. Unless he was exceptionally tired or drunk, he rarely made errors on basic processes like these.

In the few hours that they would take to get to New York via the jet, Tony Stark was making an exact duplicate copy of JARVIS. Down to the last little bit of programming and code. He wanted to insert the copy into the body in front of them, hoping against hope that the AI would be enough to control the murderous rampages of Ultron. Initially he was going to just put the original JARVIS in the system, but then he’d changed his mind. If things went wrong, he didn’t want to lose the AI, not to mention it would be near impossible to remove the integrated system once it came online.

They would have a short amount of time to work before the others came back and Tony wanted the process done or nearly there before Rogers came blustering into it. Rogers didn’t understand, he hadn’t seen what Tony had seen when he’d gone through the wormhole. He didn’t know what waited for them on the other side. They would need every advantage possible to stop what was coming.

Hermione hadn’t understood either initially. She had heavily protested Tony’s plan. Then Harry had spoken to her and had shown her the images from Tony’s mind about what he had seen. She’d been horrified to realize that he’d been dealing with that by himself, asking why he hadn’t told her. She’d been busy holding down the fort with Harry’s companies, he’d responded. She’d had enough to handle with two successful businesses and old, stubborn Lords who wanted Harry’s money.

The only one on board who didn’t have a clue about what they were doing was Clint. Tony felt bad about deceiving the archer, but he wasn’t sure Clint wouldn’t go running to Steve with their plans if he knew about it. As far as Clint knew, they were going back to New York to grab some of their gear that had been left behind and because Tony and Bruce needed to get some more info out of the lab. For now that was the safer option, they would clue him in later, when they were close to being finished with the integration process.

Bruce was wary but game to try again, realizing the soundness of putting an existing AI into the system to control the body. Obviously, JARVIS was smarter than they had realized, he had been able to deceive Ultron and still leave Tony clues to his whereabouts. The AI had evolved even more than Tony had thought possible, it left him stunned sometimes. He’d originally programmed JARVIS as a challenge to himself, nonchalantly naming it with the ridiculous acronym Just A Rather Very Intelligent System.

Over the years however, JARVIS had become his closest confidante and most loyal backer, running everything from his private email account to the security on his labs and the cameras in his company buildings. He monitored Tony’s media appearances and was intelligent enough to realize when a reporter had crossed the line, reporting it to Pepper and his PA team. The only one who had complete control over him was Tony, the next highest was ‘Master Harry’ as JARVIS called him respectfully.

The Quinjet landed on the pad, engines slowing to an idle before turning off. Finished with the coding, Tony stood up, closed his laptop and headed for the ramp. He stopped at the base of the ramp, Harry next to him as they waited for Hermione and Bruce, who was escorting the gurney carrying the heavy capsule. He led the way to the elevator and tapped the correct button, heading down to the labs. He rapidly keyed in the six-digit pin and rested his thumb on the pad that popped out, security measures he’d installed to keep people from accessing his private labs through the elevator system.

When they stepped out into the lab he and Bruce immediately got to work, setting up the various processes and connecting to the capsule containing the solid vibranium body that was very human in appearance. Harry settled himself out of the way but close enough to intervene if necessary, sitting cross-legged on a stool and continuing his meditation, his aura become visible due to the sheer concentration of magic he was using and building up.

Hermione stayed out of their way but with clear interest in her eyes, watching the process with sharp intelligence. She flicked her wand once, setting into place some form of monitoring spell, before sitting in a chair and simply observing. Every once in a while, her eyes darted to where Harry was sitting, concern evident on her face. Clearly, she hadn’t seen him gathering that much of his magic in quite a while either.

Tony carefully uploaded the copy of JARVIS, taking care to make sure that the coding was intact as the sent it streaming through wires into the capsule. With every tick of a percentage point on the screen he breathed a little easier, looking to the small cage containing the orange-yellow gem they’d removed from the body’s forehead. Hermione was eyeing it with great distaste, apparently it was the source of the Dark Magic she’d sensed previously.

The only reason why she hadn’t attempted to destroy it was Harry, who had sensibly pointed out that such a thing would likely have defenses in place, even ones that they couldn’t see. He gave her a pointed look and she’d grumbled before settling back, not pleased to have the gem intact. Harry exited his meditation, stared at the gemstone for a long minute before taking it in his hand, rolling the small titanium ball it was contained in in his palms before it simply…_ disappeared._

“Where did you send it?” Tony asked.

“One of my vaults,” Harry shrugged. To Bruce’s curious look he explained, “I have inherited two family fortunes that I brought with me when I moved to the States. They’re managed by magical bankers, a creature known as a goblin. The vaults are deep underground and some of the safest places in the world. Swiss banks have nothing on Gringotts.”

“Huh,” was Bruce’s less than eloquent answer.

Harry stood, stretching his limbs. Tony was about to tease Bruce for his answer when bang on time, Steve Rogers came bursting through the door along with Clint Barton and, Tony’s eyes narrowed, the _Maximoff twins._ Of all the stupid, idiotic things Steve could do…

Spotting the capsule and the computer ticking off percentages (95% and gaining steadily), Steve stared at Tony and said, “This ends now. Turn it off.”

Tony gave an angry, frustrated sigh. “Just when I think you get it, you go and _boss me around_ again, Rogers. I am not some little obedient puppy that will jump to do what you say. You come barging into my labs, barking orders like you have even the slightest clue about what I’m doing and expect me to come to heel.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Harry tap lightly on the counter, showering little visible magical sparks. It didn’t make sense until he also caught the look of sudden caution in the Sokovian speedster’s eyes. No doubt he’d thought to take off and do something, unplug cables maybe. At the little reminder of the last time him and Harry had crossed paths he obviously changed his mind. (Smart of him.)

As they all began to argue, Steve’s eyes lit on the massive cable connecting Bruce and Tony’s computers to the capsule. He threw his shield, the vibranium weapon slicing past Tony, almost clipping him in the arm. With a solid _thunk_ it stopped short of it’s goal, caught firmly in Harry’s outstretched hand.

An eerie sort of silence fell, Tony’s shocked eyes flicking between the shield caught firmly in his fiancee's hand, still quivering from impact and the gaping looks of surprise on the faces of Bruce, Steve, Clint and the twins. The twins would have no clue, but many of the Avengers had tried to catch Steve’s shield once he threw it during practices and such and it normally knocked them all back on their asses. Tony could catch it if he had his gauntlets on, but certainly not bare-handed.

“I believe,” Harry said coldly, “we all need to calm down. Obviously, you have no clue whatsoever about what is going on here, Rogers. I don’t know what things Wanda has filled your head with, but we’re all clear-headed here.”

“You don’t understand,” Wanda said, her accent thick with distress, “he’s still doing what Ultron wants, what I had wanted.”

“Actually,” Harry said with a sneer, “no he’s not. Tony’s mind is now protected from the likes of you, along with Bruce, Clint, Hermione and myself. If you think I’d leave your _poison_ alone, you’re more of an idiot than I thought.”

At the words Tony barely stopped himself from reflexively reaching for the small medallion around his neck, a temporary measure Harry had taken to protect them from mental manipulations. He was looking into something more permanent along with Hermione. Pepper had one too, as did Rhodey. There was no _fucking _way Tony was going to leave anyone he cared about vulnerable around people like her.

There was a shattering noise of breaking glass and Thor suddenly dropped in, hammer ready in his hands. He looked surprised to see the lack of conflict, eyes flicking to the monitor that now announced _98% Complete._ “Finish your project, comrades Stark and Banner. It needs to be done.”

“Thor,” Steve began, “you can’t possibly believe it is in anyone’s best interests for yet another of these things to be created? We’re still fighting the first one.”

“Normally I would be worried about it as well, Steve,” Thor said, “but I have seen this thing in a vision along with the stone that was attached to it’s forehead. Where is the stone now?”

“In a very secure underground vault that only I have access to,” Harry said calmly, waving his hand with a soft ‘_Reparo’_ to fix the broken glass.

“I apologize for my dramatic entrance, friend Tony. I had thought I would need to finish the project if Steve had stopped it from completing.”

“It’s all right,” Tony muttered, shocked that Thor was supporting him after the aftermath that had been Ultron’s debut.

The counter clicked over to 100% and flashed the word _Complete_ in red. No sooner had the word faded from the screen than the top of the capsule was forcefully flung away, a severe dent in the metal. The _being_ that stood up from inside was humanoid, taller than most of the Avengers besides Rogers and Thor. His ‘skin’ was just shy of burgundy and there were gleaming hints of metal near where the ribs would exist on a human.

“I apologize for startling you all, the capsule was quite confining and my awakening… abrupt,” the voice was vaguely similar to it’s inspiration, JARVIS, though not with the artificialness that suffused Tony’s AI.

“I can read your mind,” Wanda said, cautious curiosity in her voice.

“That is because I, unlike Ultron, have a brain of sorts. More higher programming, but I am capable of individual thought.”

“When I looked into your head before I saw violence and destruction on a worldwide scale,” she said suspiciously.

“That is because those were Ultron’s goals. His ‘imprint’ failed to take on myself however. I see no need for excessive violence and will support the goals of the ‘Avengers’ as necessary.”

Harry was looking around the room and suddenly his eyes narrowed. “Where is Natasha?”

Tony inhaled sharply.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Probably one chapter left before we hit pre-Civil War in the timeline. Yay! Took me 10 chapters to cover one movie and Age of Ultron is not even the most complex... This will be fun. We get Hermione and Tony's POV in this chapter, bit of switching around going on. You'll hardly ever see 1st POV from me though, I can't stand it for some reason. This also answers the Ron question... don't hate me please?  
Note: I was surprised that people seem to forget Natasha's not there because she stayed behind and got captured by Ultron when they switched the capsule containing Vision to the Quinjet. So no, she's not a traitor or anything. She is totally on Tony's side in this, Harry might even let her kick Steve's ass for him, since we all know he wouldn't expect it of a woman. *snicker*  
Here you go!

To say Harry had been less than impressed with the revelation that Steve, Wanda and Pietro had left Natasha behind to be captured by Ultron would be something of an understatement. He’d looked at Steve and said in a sharp, cold voice, “The way I have been taught and lived my life, we don’t leave anyone behind, _Captain._”

Steve had not had anything to say to that rebuke, instead casting his eyes away from angry green ones and telling them to gather up anything they might possibly need, because Natasha had managed to get a signal out through Morse code telling them that Ultron was in Sokovia. Back where this had all started. Hermione shook her head, Harry had been right when he said Wanda would see the damage her actions caused, on her own country no less.

She’d made a quick trip to the local Gringotts branch in New York, popping over with authorization from Harry to remove their magically reinforced battle gear. She hadn’t worn hers since the end of the Voldemort War, as it was now called. Harry never wore his gear from the war anymore, he’d been given top of the line equipment when he’d been associated with the magical department of MI6.

Hermione slid into her gear back in her rooms in the Tower, unsurprised to note that the resizing charms still worked correctly and it fit her as snuggly as it had at seventeen. She waved her wand to braid her long brown hair and then tuck the braid under in a severe bun, getting it out of her face and out of the way. Made of supple blue-black Antipodean Opaleye hide that had cost an arm and a leg, the leather-like armor was a gift from Harry the year the war had gotten really bad. It had saved her life a few times.

Form-fitting and sleek, it was far more revealing than anything she liked to wear, accented with small silver buckles that ran off-center to the right, it’s only touch of femininity in the slim mandarin collar and the shimmering accent that was the symbol of the Order of the Phoenix, which Harry had taken over running of after Dumbledore had coerced Snape into killing him. A mercy killing, one they later learned the man had been far from deserving. Paired with supple black gloves and short, chunky steel-toed boots, it made even a bookworm like her look lethal and sexy.

When Ginny had first commented to the effect it had embarrassed Hermione, unused to being the center of attention for anyone romantically or sexually. Now it no longer bothered her, if her appearance made the mostly-male forces she had faced over her lifetime forget about her abilities, she’d take whatever advantage she could get. She had been done with being fair what felt like a lifetime ago. About the time Bellatrix had pinned her to the floor and carved the word ‘Mudblood’ into her arm, still there all these years later. Still, the wide-eyed looks from her companions made her want to blush, specifically for some reason the surprised cough emitted by one Bruce Banner.

She just rolled her eyes when Tony dramatically declared, “See, I told you there was a reason why I called you a goddess!”

“Oh, just wait a moment,” she replied evenly. “You’ve never actually seen Harry in his gear from MI6, have you?”

“No, I’ve seen the photos in his file like everyone else. He was done with all that crap by the time you guys met me, remember?”

She just smirked at him, content to lean against the doorframe and wait. She knew Harry was almost done getting into his gear, it was such a second nature to him it never took long. She watched their faces, particularly Tony’s. It took only a few more minutes for the subtle widening of eyes even darker brown than her own for her to smirk a bit and turn her head.

Head to toe in black leather with gold piping and off-center gold buttons with tiny emblems of the magical MI6 on each button down the left side of his chest, paired with almost knee-high black leather boots, fingerless black gloves (Harry preferred the contact) and a couple of not so unobtrusive dagger handles tucked into his boots he was an attractive and _lethal _image, his hair once again pulled back to a couple inches long to keep it out of his eyes and too short to be grabbed in a fight.

He stopped next to her, arched an eyebrow and said, “Resizing charms? I know you haven’t worn yours since the end of our war.”

She hummed noncommittally and said, “I’m more impressed you still wear that, considering it’s been how long since you worked with MI6?”

He rolled his eyes. Strolling easily to stand next to a still tongue-tied Tony he arched a brow at Rogers, who was blinking at them both and said, “We ready to go or what?”

The tall blonde blinked, almost visibly shaking off his surprise before leading the way to the elevator, tapping the key for the hangar level. They boarded the advanced Quinjet (SHIELD design, modified by Tony so it was much better than the standard fare) and lifted off, Hermione seating herself on the opposite side of Harry, next to a very quiet Bruce Banner. “How long?”

“Approximately three hours,” Clint said from the cockpit.

Hermione groaned, “I should have brought a book.”

Harry just smirked at her.

*

When they settled the Quinjet in the woods a few hours later, Bruce and Hermione volunteered to go find and free Natasha so that she could join the fight. The others were stealthily making their way into the city, trying to evacuate as many people as possible as subtly as possible. It grated on Hermione to use Wanda’s _Imperio-_like ability of mind control on civilians, but unless they wanted mass panic it was one of the more effective ways to safely evacuate a large amount of people.

Harry had promised her that once this was all over the Sokovian twins would be dealt with, stuff Steve Roger’s concerns or attempts to convince people they deserved a second chance. Harry had learned the hard way that second chances weren’t worth it, look at his relationship with Ron. Ron had idiotically believed that Harry entered himself in the Goblet back in their fourth year, only to come around after watching his friend face off against a very angry dragon. Harry had gone against his own desires and forgiven him, desperate to have a friend.

Then Ron had abandoned not just Harry but Hermione as well on their hunt for Voldemort’s Horcruxes. He’d come back and saved Harry’s life, which was the only thing that kept Hermione from cursing him into a small puddle on the ground. She’d forgiven him, grudgingly, shocked that Harry would give the immature idiot another chance. There was a chance the Horcrux had exacerbated his nastier traits, but all of his resent and immaturity had to come from _somewhere._

Hermione briefly dated Ron, quickly realizing that she wasn’t going to be able to be herself tied down to him. He wanted a simpler girl, if she hadn’t been killed in the war Lavender Brown would have likely been ideal for him once she’d gotten over her clinginess. They had split up, fracturing her relationship with the Weasley family right down the middle almost. Harry had backed her, drawing his own line in the sand firmly at her side.

The blowout from that had been terrible. Hermione could still close her eyes and picture them, Harry and Ron, standing there outside the Burrow with unstable rage (Ron) and emotional pain of loss (Harry) in their eyes as Ron had tried to curse Harry. Well, he’d never been the best of duelists. Harry had sent him flying with a simple but greatly overpowered _Expelliarmus,_ Ron landing in the duck pond. They had later learned, after Harry had safely escaped England to France, that Ron was one of the ones who had supported Harry’s arrest and execution.

So yes, Harry knew from personal experience that giving questionable people second chances was a bad idea. Wanda had been subject to experimentation and manipulation at the hands of terrorists and a gem that reeked of Dark Magic, she was in no way, shape or form stable. Steve Rogers couldn’t possibly know everything that she was capable of, the very fact that he was supporting her made him a strong suspect for mental manipulation and control. Despite his protests to the contrary, he would have _no clue_ if she was controlling him, he had no mental fortitude for magical attacks at all.

To give them all a permanent mental barrier against people like Wanda’s attacks, Harry had replaced the medallion with a small protection rune carved into the skin and inlaid with the ashes from freshly burnt white heather and aloe, both of which stood for protection as well as healing (aloe), and luck (white heather). The small dark silvery tattoo that resulted was very discreet, the process nearly painless thanks to Harry’s quick, steady work with a very sharp athame. Noticeably he had not offered the tattoo to Steve, Pietro or Wanda herself.

He’d done it in the last quiet moments of the day before, while they had been waiting for some sort of signal or alternatively tracking down Ultron’s current location. Natasha’s coordinates indicated some sort of central tunnel below the old, ruined church in the central square, so that was where Hermione and Bruce were headed. They came up in what appeared to be an old central drainage system, rusty old gates serving as decent cell doors.

“Natasha,” Hermione said quietly, attracting the attention of the redhead in one of the cells. Her head lifted sharply from where she had been faking sleep, looking surprised to see both of them there.

“Here to join the party?” she said quietly, a wry smile on her lips.

“You should have waited for an invite,” Hermione replied, stopping Bruce when he went to blast open the lock. It would be far too loud and she didn’t want to trip any of Ultron’s failsafe systems or guards.

“_Alohomora,”_ she whispered instead, internally smiling at the irony of how many times she’d used this spell over the years.

The rusty lock opened with a quiet click, the door swinging open with gratifying silence. Natasha swiftly exited her cell, stretching her limbs and then looking at them both. “What’s the plan?”

“Above us are the rest of the group, we’re working on getting as many civilians out as possible before Ultron realizes we’re here. There’s an android named Vision who’s helping us, it’s a long story so we’ll explain later. He’s headed to the broken church directly above us to confront Ultron and hopefully cut him off from the computer world so he won’t be able to escape again. We’ll have to destroy each and every one of his forces to make sure he doesn’t escape, but then we’ll finally be done with this,” Hermione explained.

Abruptly the ground around them shook, knocking all three of them off balance. Then with a terrible screeching noise and a lot of falling rock, the ground began to _lift_ around them. “What—” Hermione gasped.

“It’s what he’s been working on,” Natasha managed, locking her hands around a railing and leaning against it. “The rest of the vibranium, he’s been digging it into the ground around here for some reason. I think we’re about to find out why!”

Bruce looked pale. “I- I’d better head back,” he stammered. “I’d just get in the way.”

“Sorry Bruce,” Natasha said somewhat grimly, before shoving him over the edge out of sight of a nearly endless pipe. Hermione’s jaw dropped and she prepared to yell at the crazy Russian woman.

A roar cut her off and she blinked, stepping back several paces as a large green figure landed in front of them, growling at Natasha in a way that said he was a little peeved with her. A green figure with some very familiar features… So, _this_ was Bruce’s alternate personality, the Hulk.

“But I need Hulk right now,” Natasha finished, smirking at the figure. “Ready to get into this fight, big guy?”

Hulk growled, slamming a fist forward just inches from Natasha’s left side to punch an impressive hole in the wall. “Yeah yeah, I know. Sorry, I wasn’t about to let you run away from a good fight,” Natasha rolled her eyes.

Turning to Hermione she smirked and said, “Ready Cinderella? Our carriage awaits,” gesturing behind her.

Hermione’s eyes widened. She couldn’t possibly mean…

* * *

At the precise moment that the ground began shaking, Tony Stark’s communicator beeped and the modulated voice of Vision came through. “Ultron is cut off from any connection to the Web or computer systems. He is now isolated to his current superior platform and the support models.”

“That’s the best news I’ve heard all day,” Tony announced, before flicking down his faceplate and taking off. “Now we just need to see what in the hell is going on.”

He jetted off the ground and took a sharp left, aiming for the forests near where they’d parked the Quinjet. When he spun around he couldn’t help the sharp inhale of breath nor the widening of his eyes as he took in what Ultron had done. A massive chunk of the city, several miles in diameter, was _floating._ Not just floating, but getting higher off the ground with every passing second.

“JARVIS?” he asked quietly.

“It appears, sir, that the being known as Ultron has been busy indeed. He’s used the leftover vibranium in creating lift repulsors similar to those on the Quinjet, only massive in scale. He has driven them strategically into the ground around the city and achieved enough lift to rupture the ground and take a good portion with him.”

“If we cut the power, what’s the scale of damage?”

“At current height the fall would cause some severe health problems as well as killing everyone on it and in a good radius. If it gets too much higher, we’re looking at an Extinction Level Event, which appears to be the goal. Mechanicals don’t need to breathe, after all.”

Tony could taste bile in his mouth. “Holy shit,” he breathed.

“Precisely, sir.”

“Right,” Harry’s voice interjected into his conversation, a miniature photo popping up on the left side of his visor. Tony frowned. _I need to update his photo…_

“We’re going to continue to concentrate on getting people to safe places as we try to figure out a way to get them off of this rock. Ignore the worst-case scenario, Tony, and put that brilliant mind of yours to planning an alternate that doesn’t kill everyone involved. Ultron’s unleashed a horde of his merry men, so we’re going to be busy fighting them as well as getting people to safety. Help us out if you can, but concentrate on this. I know you can figure it out, Anthony Stark. Just make it another theoretical problem in your lab if you have to.”

Tony gave a dry, somewhat hysterical laugh even though it was the last thing he wanted to do. “You know you’re unbelievable, right?”

“I do. I also know that I love one of the smartest people on this damn planet, if not the smartest. I know I love an eccentric billionaire with a heart of gold and who is far more sensitive than the media will ever know. I know you figured out a way to rescue yourself from a living hell in Afghanistan with some cheap tools and a bit of desperation. I know that you’ve never let me down before and you’re not going to start now.”

“Be careful, Harry,” Tony said quietly.

“I will.”

Their communicator fell silent, indicating that Harry was occupied elsewhere. Tony felt bolstered by their conversation, reveling in how much Harry loved and trusted him. Tony’s jaw firmed and he nodded once, sharply.

“Okay then, let’s figure this out.”


	10. Age of Ultron Ends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Typed this entire update on my phone, hopefully there are no glaring spelling or grammar errors. This chapter wraps up the action of Age of Ultron, the next update is the start of pre-Civil War.

In his years as an agent with MI6, Harry had never seen anything quite like this. He knew from the footage he’d seen that his fiancée and his teammates were no strangers to insurmountable odds, nor was he for that matter. Most of the people he knew would instantly point out the Voldemort War, as it was now known. He’d been all of seventeen when he faced a much older and arguably more powerful opponent and had come out the victor. But still, he had to admit that their current odds had to be low.

They were on a small chunk of a town that was literally _floating_ in the air, getting higher with every passing minute. There were panicked civilians pinned in buildings, cars, homes or just running amok screaming and crying. Trying to calm people down and get them to safety was complicated by said flying rock and the presence of a seemingly endless army of robots bent on the destruction of humanity.

At the moment, Harry was neck-deep in said robots, fighting them off furiously while trying not to give in to his rising panic. He cursed softly under his breath and shot his fist forward and _through _the metal chest plate of his current opponent, dropping it to the ground in a heap of scrap metal.

He pulled his hand back, ignoring the shaking the best he could. Despite his words of reassurance to Tony, he was actually doing his level best not to collapse in a severe panic attack. He knew he’d been pushing himself physically and mentally, having woken up not even a week ago after nearly five years imprisonment. His weakened condition was acting up in the worst possible moment, one where he couldn’t even get a _moment _to himself. Or could he?

Tapping his communicator, he spoke. “What is our current approximate radius?”

It only took JARVIS a moment to respond. “Those if you fighting on the ground are all in a five mile radius of each other.”

“Thank you,” Harry said. “Okay people, listen up. I’m going to cast a spell that creates a large dome shield, give us all a bit of a breather. We’ll still have the bots inside of the shield to deal with, but those outside will disintegrate if they try to pass through. Civilians will have safe passage as will each of you.”

“Harry,” Hermione sounded both breathless and worried, “that spell takes an enormous amount of energy.”

“I know,” he replied, “I’ll be able to hold it for an hour at most. But we need the time to regroup and check our plan. We’re risking injuries or a fatality at the rate we’re going.”

Hermione didn’t speak again, so Harry knelt and placed his hands on the pavement. “You nearby, Tony?”

“Got you in eyesight currently,” he confirmed.

“Watch my back. This spell takes a few minutes to cast properly and I can’t interrupt it.”

“Got it,” the man replied. “Go ahead, nobody’s getting through on my watch.”

Harry closed his eyes and slowly began to recite a string of Latin in a low, sing-song voice. His fingertips on both hands were touching and his palms pressed to the pavement. As he felt the rising pressure from his magic he drew his hands apart, hearing the surprised sounds from the others on his still open mic. He knew from experience it was quite the sight, a shimmery white dome of light spilling overhead as if poured from a glass.

It was the same shield the professors had used to protect Hogwarts at the end of the war, one that was supposedly impossible to cast single-handedly due to the immense draw on one’s magic. Not for nothing was Harry an unusually strong wizard, however. All the magic he’d been storing leading up to this fight _poured_ through him, being sucked up greedily by the spell. It seemed to take an age for the spell to finally reach completion, his fingertips warming as the magic poured back into his hands.

He opened his eyes and stood, just as a rocket shot over his shoulder to hit a trio of bots who’d thought to take advantage of his distraction. Harry faintly felt the heat on his face and turned his back on the explosion, looking up and catching a glimpse of armor glinting in the sunlight. “Thanks,” he said.

“None necessary,” Tony replied in a somehow cheerful tone. “Might have a solution, need to talk with the resident thunder god. We still have to get these people off somehow.”

“Working in that,” Harry grimaced. “If not for the lack of magical energy and revealing said magic in the first place I’d suggest portkeys, but I know how well that would go over with the ICW and MACUSA.”

Tony snorted. “Yeah that wouldn’t fly. Stuck up assholes.”

Harry gave a short laugh. “Go talk to Thor, I’m going to meet up with the others and see what’s going on with them.”

Tony gave a small salute and a showy flip, rocketing off south. Harry groaned quietly and headed in the same direction at a slow jog, knowing the others were likely in that direction.

—

Steve Rogers was near the ruined bridge, staring out at the endless blue sky. It taunted him, pointing out how futile it was to gather the civilians in safe places when they had nowhere to go. The shimmery transparent shield was barely visible if he squinted. It was like being inside a snow globe, shaking around and staring out at the peacefulness that beckoned beyond the glass. He shook his head with a sigh.

“Tony, have you come up with anything yet?”

“I think we can break up the island into much smaller pieces so they disintegrate before reaching the ground, but we still have no way to get the civilians and yourselves off that rock.”

Natasha walked up next to him, looking none the worse for her experience than a small cut to her cheek. “There’s worse ways to go out I suppose,” she murmured.

Steve stares at the blue sky, the fluffy not-so-distant clouds he always imagined felt like cotton balls. “Definitely,” he agrees.

A familiar voice crackles over their earpieces, causing the pair to stare at each other in surprise.

“Hope you lot aren’t giving up on me. Took a bit to pull her out of storage, but here we are,” Nick Fury says as the familiar form of the helicarrier rises into sight.

Steve knows he’s grinning like an idiot but he doesn’t care. As the helicarrier launches lifeboats and the familiar silver shape of War Machine flies from the deck, he whoops quietly in sudden jubilation.

They start the slow process of ushering people to the lifeboats, relief flooding his veins with every person safely off the rock. Some of the bots from beyond the shield are targeting the lifeboats, but Tony and Rhodes appear to have them well in hand. With renewed hope he watches the people leave, turning and heading for the church once he sees Clint and the speedster Pietro have the process working smoothly.

When he reaches it he finds Natasha is already there, as is the Hulk, Hermione Granger, Harry, Vision, Tony, Thor and Wanda Maximoff.

“This central spike controls all of the rest,” Tony explains. “If Ultron gets his hands on it, or any of his minions, the whole island drops and it’s game over.”

“He won’t reach it,” Wanda spits, eyes and hands glowing with the red energy that surrounds her.

Harry’s acid green eyes are cold as he locks on hers and says, “They’d better not. Now is not the time for you to screw it up.”

Her returning stare is murderous and afraid at the same time. Steve frowns, but realizes now is not the time to argue. “Harry,” he says instead, “can you control which portions of that shield come down?”

“I can open one section to control flow, but after that it will have to come down,” Harry replies, expression calm aside from the fierce glitter in his eyes. “I’ll give a heads up when the shield is disintegrating.”

Steve took a deep breath, adjusted the strap on his famous shield and said, “Open the shield, right in front of us. Three or four wide if you can control it.”

—

The whole situation was chaotic, which really was saying something. She’s fought in a civil war from fifteen onward, seen and experienced some of the worst of humanity. But this, Hermione realizes, was pure insanity. Even in the midst of it she couldn’t help but admire the way the Avengers worked together, moving like coordinated pieces of a well-oiled machine. The moment someone appeared to be getting overrun, someone else was there to back them up.

Aside from Harry. She caught glimpses of him during brief lulls in the fighting, he had his back to Wanda’s strange red shield and was firing spells or punches with a dancing rhythm that was oddly hypnotic. Despite it having been years since he last was in combat, he clearly hadn’t forgotten how to use his body like the well-honed weapon it normally was.

She could see he was tiring though, his hands shook faintly when he stood still for too long. She couldn’t help but be concerned, he really shouldn’t be here in the first place but she knew better than to argue with him after all these years. He wouldn’t stay out of it anyway, not with Tony involved.

Unconsciously she found herself making her way over to him. They exchanged grim smiles and he turned, trusting her to watch his back. She’s done so for years now, but his trust is always overwhelming. She knows the life he’s led, knows that trust is hard to come by after all of it. She swears to herself she’ll never make him regret it.

—

Tony’s beginning to feel a little overwhelmed. There seems to be no end to the waves of sentries Ultron is sending at them, no light at the end of the tunnel. Ultron himself has yet to make an appearance. He quickly shoots his closest opponents and takes a moment to breathe. All of his teammates/friends seem to be doing all right.

His eyes land on the section facing the entrance, where Hermione and Harry are fighting. He stares at them, stunned. Harry has been done with all his fighting shit by the time Tony had met him in _Enchanted, _the nightclub Harry owned. He’d never actually seen Harry using his magic in a fight before the day the Avengers had found him.

The pair were lethal, keeping most of their opponents at arms reach at the closest. Hermione fires spells with rapid ease, ignoring the tendrils of her hair that were falling in her face. Covered in dirt , smoke and liquid debris from the robots, she didn’t seem fazed at all by the constant onslaught. It seemed his nickname suits her after all, Athena being the goddess of both wisdom and warfare.

Harry though, was a sight to behold. He moved with a dancers grace, economy of motion in every move. He swiftly plotted out the best option for his current situation and put it in action, making split-second decisions. His magic was becoming visible again, curling around his body and especially his hands.

He sharply slammed his hand into the ground and created a magical shockwave that traveled all the way around the chamber, shorting out all of the bots simultaneously, as none of them were protected against magical outbursts.

“Right,” Rogers said with a short cough, visibly heaving in a breath, “ we need to finish evacuating while we have the upper hand. We also need to find the rest of these troops and Ultron’s main body, so we know for sure this threat is over. Wanda, maintain guard here, don’t let one of his people touch that activator.”

The woman nodded, her face a little pale but determined.

“Pietro, put that speed of yours to good use and head out to check for more civilians. Tony, get with Rhodes and keep an eye out for any further attempts to shoot down the transports. Natasha, Clint, I need you to take over the evacuation over by the bridge, keep it running smoothly.”

“And the rest of us? I take it we’re going track down the rest of the robots and find Ultron?” Hermione asks coolly, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“That was my thought, unless you’ve thought of something better?”

“Not really,” Harry says casually. “But I’m going to head up high instead of helping, see if a higher viewpoint will make it easier.”

“We don’t have time for you to climb one of the buildings, though,” Steve frowned.

Harry’s eyes glitter. “Who said anything about climbing?”

Before Steve can answer, he’s turned, sighted a tall building in the middle of the area and with a small _pop!_ disappears. Looking through the shattered church ceiling Tony spots him appear on said roof, crouching down to avoid attracting unwanted attention.

Steve just sighs and Tony gives a small snort of laughter, heading out.

—

Over his earpiece what seems like hours later, Harry hears, “That’s the last of the civilians, and the last of the sentries. Now we just need to find Ultron’s main body.”

Harry sighs in relief, rolling his shoulders and standing straight. His entire body aches and all he wants to do is sleep for a week. Out of the corner of his eye he catches a glint of metal and his eyes widen, it’s a leftover robot and it’s aiming at Barton. He sees the speedster Pietro head in his direction, but they’re both too slow.

Harry closes his eyes and Apparates, appearing in front of the pair with a loud _crack!_ He’s too late, the speedster has been hit. He drops to a knee and shoves Barton out of the way, whispering a long string of spells under his breath feverishly. Just in time it activates, putting the Sokovian into stasis.

“He’s in a stasis, he’ll stay that way until we can get him to a medic,” he explains to Barton, who looks both shocked and relieved.

Under their feet, the ground begins to shake and there’s a strange, sudden feeling of weightlessness. Looking at the sky, Harry realizes they’ve begun to fall, fast. “Hang on,” he warns Barton, before apparating them both to the helicarrier’s deck.

Ignoring Barton’s startled cursing, he turns with a growl and Apparates again, feeling for the connection he has with Wanda. Sure enough, she’s abandoned her post, letting one of Ultron’s sentries hit the switch. In front of her is the burned out husk of Ultron’s main form, metal still glowing with the heat.

“What have you done?” He snarls, grabbing her arm.

“I have gotten my revenge,” she says dramatically, eyes glowing. “My brother is dead, I felt it.”

“Well you felt wrong,” Harry growls, “he’s in stasis waiting on medical treatment. And your little drama queen moment has cost us dearly.”

She opens her mouth to say something, eyes wide in surprise, when his earpiece chimes.

“Harry,” Tony’s voice is worried, “tell me you’re not on that rock. We need to destroy it now, but Clint said you got him off and disappeared again.”

“I’m leaving now,” Harry says calmly. “Destroy it, I just had to grab an errant member of our party. Wanda decided to wander off rather than stay put.”

Wanda glares at him angrily, but he takes no satisfaction in apparating suddenly, dropping her to the deck of the helicarrier to heave the contents of her stomach out on the tarmac. None at all. Really.

He turns away, watching the floating island break up into smaller pieces, most falling harmlessly into the water. He watches intently, shoulders only relaxing when he spots a glimpse of shining armor flying easily through the debris.

Tony flies towards him, landing easily on the deck. The armor is dented in a few places, a little scratched and covered in dust, but when Tony flips up the visor he’s unharmed, much to Harry’s relief.

“Just another day with the Avengers,” he says cheekily. “Sure you want to sign on for the long term?”

Harry looks at him, eyes soft. He hears the undercurrent of emotion in the others voice, despite his obvious attempts to shut it out.

“Always,” he answers, reaching up to kiss the other softly.

He’s glad nobody was hurt, that the civilians were safely evacuated. However, he’s most glad that the day is over and he and Tony are once again headed home. Together.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In between the events of Age of Ultron and Civil War. Just to clarify, Natasha is on Tony’s side in this, she doesn’t have prior knowledge of the truth of Tony’s parents in this fic.

Rather than rebuild the existing tower, Tony had chosen to build a new complex for the Avengers in upstate New York, buying out fifty acres of land and fencing the entire thing. He’d started work on it before the whole thing with Ultron had begun, it was part of the reason why he’d created another AI. JARVIS was _his_, he wasn’t going to let others boss his baby around.

As he walked around the completed building with Harry, Tony eyed certain things he’d been the most excited or concerned about and nodded when they met his expectations, or frowned and made a small note to touch up on something. They were avoiding the practical half of the complex, where the training grounds were. Steve and Natasha were putting some new ‘recruits’ into training and Steve was a little angry at Harry right now.

True to his character, the minute they’d reached international space where the UN held sway, Harry had handed over Wanda and Pietro Maximoff to the authorities with verbal testimony of what they, especially Wanda, were responsible for during the whole debacle. Pietro had gotten off light, he was under close surveillance by the UN and basically the Avengers version of house-arrest, unable to leave the premises on his own. His acts would be closely monitored and his superhero abilities would be considered ‘community service’ for the next five years.

Wanda however, had not gotten off so lightly. With Harry’s evidence that she had controlled and messed with the minds of several dozen people if not more, including Tony’s, he’d bound her abilities and she was remanded to a maximum security prison Thaddeus Ross had built for ‘talents’ called the Raft. She would be there for at least the next ten years before being eligible for parole, and even when released her actions would be closely monitored and the majority of her ‘gifts’ would never be unlocked.

It was specifically the harsh actions against Wanda that had Steve so disapproving at the moment. She was young, the super soldier had pointed out, she couldn’t have been thinking clearly. It wasn’t her fault she’d been under the influence of the malicious machinery that had been Ultron.

To which Harry had snapped right back that she did in fact know what she’d been doing, it was because of her Ultron had existed in the first place. If she hadn’t messed with Tony’s head, exacerbating his fears based on what he alone had seen in New York against Loki, he wouldn’t have taken the extreme actions he had in creating the robot as a _peacekeeping_ program. Wanda was absolutely in control of her actions.

Harry had offered Steve, Natasha and Clint the tattooed rune as protection against being mentally taken advantage of. Natasha and Clint had both jumped at the opportunity, surprisingly so had Pietro. It was rather telling on Wanda’s moral compass with her abilities when her own _twin_ wanted protection against her. Steve and the other new recruit, Sam Wilson had not taken Harry up on the offer. Tony found that very suspicious in itself, not so much on Wilson’s part as he was brand-new and didn’t know anything about Harry or his abilities.

But Rogers? Who had seen what Wanda was capable of and briefly been under her influence? It annoyed and irritated Tony that the other was more suspicious of Harry than with the woman who had literally messed with his head. In any case, neither of them was too eager to go watch as the more experienced Avengers put the new recruits through their paces.

Bruce was already happily tinkering away in one of the state-of-the-art lab downstairs, touched that Tony had made one specifically for him. Clint had decided to take a break for a bit, heading back to his wife and family before the birth of his newest child. Tony didn’t blame the man a bit, after all the crap they’d been through and nearly being shot by a straggling robot, he would want to take a break as well.

That was the other reason why they weren’t going to say hello to the others, they were taking a bit of a break. Harry had been pushing himself too hard, as Tony had thought. The other had relapsed after the end of the fight in Sokovia, having had several all too visceral nightmares about his treatment at the hands of HYDRA. He was doing better, but he was still a little pale for Tony’s liking and he had moments of wavering uncertainty that were hard to watch. Tony knew all too well what he was going through and made himself Harry’s rock, protecting the other from any triggers the best he could.

Actually, right after they left here, they were going on vacation, their bags were already packed and waiting on the jet at the nearby airstrip. While Harry had been immensely curious as to where they were going, Tony was being quiet on their destination. He wanted to see Harry’s face when he realized where they were. Hermione knew, she’d been the one to pack Harry’s bags for him with a cheerful, mischievous smile on her face. The witch was staying at the complex for now, overseeing a few last projects on a few magic-safe areas Tony had made sure to put into his plans. And unless his eyes were deceiving him, perhaps hanging out with a certain gamma scientist as well. He smirked.

Harry looked at him curiously and he merely shook his head. He would be very surprised if Harry hadn’t noticed his best friend’s attraction to Bruce. He certainly couldn’t have picked better himself for the demure, shy scientist. The man wouldn’t know what hit him if the goddess of wisdom chose to set her sights on him. He knew after Sokovia he would never doubt her ready confidence in her ability to defend herself and kick ass in the meantime. She was like Natasha in that respect, he wouldn’t want to piss either of them off.

It had been an eye-opener to see what both Hermione and Harry were capable of if pushed. As he’d pointed out to Hermione, Harry had been done with all of his fighting with the Wizarding forces and MI6 by the time Tony had first met him in _Enchanted_, the popular nightclub Harry had opened in New York. He’d wondered of course, noticing the way the gorgeous man held himself as if constantly on alert for a fight. It had all come out a few weeks later after he’d had a vivid nightmare of the war he’d been through.

Tony gritted his teeth. Just the _thought_ of what Harry had been through as a child no less could make him furious. It was probably a good thing Albus Dumbledore was dead, otherwise Tony would have given the man a piece of his mind. One that very well could have put him 6 feet under. Harry still occasionally seemed surprised, as if he still couldn’t understand why anyone would be concerned.

They exited the building, one of Tony’s custom cars with the ‘STARK’ license plate waiting in front of the building. Once on the road Tony gave a soft sigh of relief. It was going to be good to get away for a while. Rogers and Romanoff could hold down the fort for a bit. As he drove his mind raced ahead, plotting all that needed to be done to be prepared for what he inevitably knew was on the horizon.

They would be ready, he wouldn’t contemplate otherwise.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of possibly two in-between chapters. We learn where Tony decided to take Harry for vacation. ~2500 words, give or take.
> 
> Enjoy!

The tarmac on the Paris-Charles de Gaulle airport was currently empty. Well, that wasn’t precisely true. The main runways were an almost constant low hum of noise just a couple of miles to his left. The Muggles had it well under control, the parade of planes entering and leaving the premises moved with almost military precision. The low hum of voices in the main terminals was akin to bees in a hive, a mild cacophony of continuous noise broken only by the crackle and blare of the P.A. system or them radios staff carried.

  
But the private landing strip where Lord Draco Lucius Malfoy stood next to his wife the Lady Luna Selene was empty, at least for the moment. He’d been informed of the landing time for the private plane by Miss Granger and this particular plane had yet to be late. It was a marvel of Muggle technology, the airplane, something that he’d had to see himself to believe. As he waited patiently for the signature craft his mind wandered.

  
After the ‘Voldemort War’ as it was now called had ended, Draco had fully expected to end up in an Azkaban cell along with the other Death Eaters, or Kissed as his late, unbelated father had been. He’d expected to die long before that, the crazy man his father forced him to serve was unstable to say the least and he had felt the end of the man’s wand on occasion. That and the unique brand of insanity that had been his ‘Aunt Bella’. Somehow he had survived both, returning for a tempestuous year at Hogwarts under the sneering eye of the incestuous Carrow twins and his somber, withdrawn godfather.

  
Death had finally seemed to be coming for him on fiery wings the day the war ended. Clinging to the tower of burning furniture with the desperation of one who had suddenly appreciated life, he’d looked up to spot his nemesis Harry Potter on a rickety old broom with his hand held out. Draco hadn’t hesitated. He’d survived, but Vincent Crabbe had not, dying in a fire of his own making.

  
With a sudden new appreciation for how his body worked, he’d cherished every breath he took, every bruise he gained fighting. When the Aurors had gone to arrest him immediately after the Final Battle, he’d accepted it with cold dignity and pride, determined that to the last he would not be seen a sniveling coward. Harry Potter, newly crowned defeater of the Dark Lord, had stepped between the Aurors and Draco.

Having his life saved twice by Potter of all people in the space of a day, all Draco could do was look at him and say, “Why?”

“Everyone deserves another chance, Malfoy. The older Death Eaters got theirs and screwed it up. You have a chance not to.”

It was the first, certainly not last, time Draco would feel bewildered after a conversation with Harry Potter. Seven years of hostility wasn’t repaired in a day, but they worked on it, much to the disgust of Molly Weasley and her youngest son. Harry, with a new firm pride and bearing based on his own actions and experiences, remained intractable. He outright refused to let anyone dictate his actions.

Draco had apologized truthfully and honestly to all of the people that had been held in his family home, extending his apology to cover his brutish actions at school and in the summers when applicable. While slightly suspicious, Hermione had accepted. The goblin Griphook, Ollivander and Dean Thomas had likewise accepted and moved on. Beautiful, quirky, independent Luna Selene Lovegood had accepted as well, though she hadn’t simply moved on and forgotten about him.

She saw right through every barrier he tried to hide himself behind. Her pale blue eyes had looked at him and seen beyond, the gaze feeling as though it bared his soul to her. It shocked him, the intensity of it and the gentleness of her smile despite everything he was. He’d tried to put her out of his mind and gone back to his life, dating Pansy Parkinson despite the fact that he despised her because it was expected of him and they were betrothed.

It had lasted about a month. He’d been kissing Pansy and seen a flash of pale blue knowing eyes in his mind. He’d broken the kiss and Flooed home. Telling his mother that he couldn’t possibly damage the Malfoy name more than his father already had he broke the contract with the Parkinson family. His mother’s smile had been slightly knowing as he’d left the house and gone to find Luna. She’d looked at him with those knowing blue eyes and said softly, “You know?”

Rather than answer her question he’d scooped her off the bench she’d been sitting on, wrapped her in his arms and kissed her. Ginevra Weasley had watched him do it with a knowing grin. “Well it’s about time, Malfoy,” she’d commented.

As a result of his friendship with Harry and his relationship with Luna he’d been front and center for the debacle that was the Ministry of Magic. Watching their growing fear and finger-pointing at Harry had been like watching a wreck in slow-motion. He’d known what was going to happen before it did. It had been Draco who got the ball rolling to move Harry’s finances out of England and help him negotiate with the Goblins to sell his estates and a high profit.

Still, Draco counted it as one of the lowest points in his political career that he was there the day the Ministry had declared Harry a danger to society and said if he step foot back into his birth country he would be tried and executed. He’d worked with Neville Longbottom, his wife Susan Bones, some of his former Slytherin housemates that didn’t hate him and others to try and stop it, but it was now a standing order. Headed by a screaming, jealous, bigoted prat named Ronald Weasley.

In disgust, Draco had moved the main residence of his family from England to their ancestral home of France, deigning to step foot in England exactly thrice a month for Wizengamot meetings. His wedding had been in France, as had the birth of his son, Scorpius and recently his beautiful daughter Cassiopeia, ‘Cassie’ to family and close friends. Harry had been his best man for his wedding and was godfather to Scorpius, now ten. His darling Cassie was now three and had never met Harry, nor Tony Stark.

When he’d first heard from Hermione that Harry was off and on lovers with a Muggle billionaire and genius, he’d been concerned. For all of Harry’s trysts and being in a war, he’d never really had a serious relationship. As one of Harry’s new protectors, he’d taken his job seriously and done a lot of research into the man. While impressed with his inventions and business acumen, Draco had been less impressed with his alcoholic and playboy lifestyle.

Once they’d actually started dating seriously, Harry had brought Tony with him to France to visit Draco and Luna. It had been initially awkward, but the charming man had won him and his wife over. It had made Draco’s lips twitch to watch how nervous the man had been at first when interacting with his son, at the time just under three. Harry was very good with his godson and had acted as a go-between of sorts. By the end of the visit Tony was very fond of Scorpius.

When Harry had disappeared, Draco had felt very strange. Bereft, really. The other had been such a huge part of his life for so long that he wasn’t sure how to function without him. He’d helped Tony and the international magical Auror forces as they’d tried to find him, only to reach a dead end after his plane was forced to land in Iceland. Slowly, over the years, Draco had begun to lose hope, refusing to properly grieve for the man who had become his best friend until they had a body at least.

It had shocked him into complete silence for almost ten minutes when Hermione had called him and told him Harry had been found. While he and Luna had wanted to go across the pond immediately to check on their friend, they could not. Draco had been running his family’s company on both the magical and Muggle sides for years now, he had conferences coming up that couldn’t be put off. Luna was a successful journalist with the French magical paper and had deadlines to meet for her next textbook on magical creatures.

So now he was ecstatic to hear that his friend and Tony were coming to visit, a surprise arranged completely by Tony. Hermione had even been the one to pack Harry’s bags, much to Draco’s amusement. Tony spoiled Harry rotten, having lost him for almost five years would only make that habit worse for a while. Not that Draco disapproved, he was delighted. Harry was hard-working, self-sacrificing and had a habit of running himself into the ground.

Tony had taken one look at him and promptly began to correct all of those issues. He lavished Harry regularly with gifts and dinners and things, Harry initially protesting all of them as they knew he would. Slowly he began to realize that Tony wasn’t doing those things because he felt they were expected of him, but because he wanted to. He still blushed furiously and murmured soft lines about it being unnecessary, but Tony knew that’s how he was and did it anyway.

Draco became aware of distinct whine, lifting his gaze to the clouds and banishing his thoughts. A sleek, beautiful private jet was on approach to their landing strip, the modern lines becoming more apparent as it grew closer. The scarlet and gold logo on the tail was only visible when the plane landed, making Draco privately roll his eyes. Of course Harry had fallen in love with a man who practically had a trademark on Gryffindor colors. The plane taxied slowly to a stop near them and the elegant limousine they’d arrived in.

The stairway lowered and Tony Stark exited first, habitual half-smirk falling on his features as he walked down the stairs. He walked up to Draco, shook his hand and then turned and pressed a kiss onto Luna’s cheek, making her smile.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” the other mused.

“It certainly has,” Draco agreed with a smile. “We’re glad to see you, you know that you were welcome here at any time right?”

Tony’s smile became a little tight, warm brown eyes darkening with remembered pain. “Yeah, I do. I thought it best not to inflict my maudlin self-destructive habits on you.”

Luna reached out with a delicate hand and lightly whacked him on the side of the head, making him yelp. “Idiocy does not become you, Tony,” she said primly when he looked at her in surprise.

A warm, familiar laugh reached Draco’s ears and her turned to see Harry standing on the tarmac smiling at the sight Luna and Tony made. Draco took him in with critical eyes, not missing the circles under his eyes nor how thin he was. It was also impossible not to notice the not-so-faint scars on his bare forearms nor his slightly defensive posture, uncomfortable with being out in the open. His eyes practically glowed though, shining with a wary sort of happiness, as if he was afraid it would be taken away from him soon.

“What did you do already to make dear Luna swat you like that, Tony?” Harry asked, amusement in his voice.

“Nothing!” The man insisted, his lips twitching in a small grin as he looked cautiously at Luna.

Luna gave a small _hmph,_ stepped forward and wrapped Harry in a hug. He just barely stiffened at first, but Draco caught it. Then he relaxed and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, smiling. “I missed you, Luna.”

Looking up at Draco’s grey eyes he said, “Oh, you too, Ferret,” he said off-handedly, making Tony snicker.

Draco rolled his eyes and the old nickname and stepped forward, wresting Harry from his wife’s grip so he could give his friend a hug as well. “Watch it Scarhead,” he snarked, “I can still change my mind on this whole thing.”

Harry just rolled his eyes and both Luna and Tony laughed.

They collected the baggage the pair had brought with them, having it loaded into the car. Draco got into the car with a smile and watched the others get in. He was relieved to realize that while Harry had been through something terrible, the essence of him hadn’t changed. He was glad. He wasn’t sure he wanted to find out what could break Harry Potter. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So it looks like there are going to be three in-between chapters, not two. This one is Harry's view, the next is Tony's. Technically I could have put the two together but I wanted to end this one here. It's just under 1700 words, so not the longest chapter I've written.
> 
> I don't own Harry Potter or Marvel/Avengers/MCU.

Things had changed since the last time Harry was in Paris. Okay, that was a bit of an understatement, but he was trying to wrap his head around all of it still. His godson Scorpius Hyperion was now a ten-year-old, all long limbs and mischievous smiles. He looked a lot like his father, but the pointy bits of Draco's youthful features were softened by the genes from his mother. Scorpius had been several months shy of six when Harry had taken his ill-fated flight.

Beautiful Cassie hadn’t even existed. She had Harry wrapped around her fingers from the moment she’d looked at him with her mother’s huge blue eyes. Scorpius’ eyes had gone grey like his fathers’, little Cassiopeia was nearly her mother in miniature. Her pale blonde hair had some curls in it that he loved running his fingers through. Tony was besotted with her as well, declaring that she looked like a ‘tiny angel’.

They’d been in France for three days, staying at Draco’s ‘estate’ (because house was too simple a word) just outside of Paris. The garden Harry had helped Luna plant the beginnings of was now a masterpiece, a riot of beautiful colors coaxed into pleasing arrays of complementary palettes. At the center of the garden was a fountain, marble of course, that depicted the loving devotion of Demeter and her daughter Persephone. It had been a gift from Draco to his wife, who particularly loved Greek mythology.

Harry woke slowly, a bit groggy. They’d been up late the night before, going out to dinner with Draco and Luna and seeing a local theater performance of a Shakespeare work, ‘All’s Well that Ends Well’. Even Tony, who wasn’t the biggest fan of theater and plays, had enjoyed himself. He’d been poking fun at Draco during the play, pointing out that the peculiar speech of Shakespearean English wasn’t far off from how wizards liked to speak. Draco had huffed and denied that they were so antiquated.

Luna and Harry hadn’t been able to resist a laugh as Draco had actually proved Tony’s point. The blonde aristocrat and the brunette inventor had mock-glared at each other for a moment longer before Draco had wryly laughed and agreed that they were a ‘bit backwards’ in some things. ‘_More than a bit!’_ Tony had retorted, pointing out that they hadn’t even moved to fountain pens for the most part.

They had enjoyed themselves immensely, Harry relaxing more in a single evening than he had been able to in weeks, or so it felt like. Away from most concerns of the world, he was enjoying spending time with friends he held dear. A soft smile crossed his lips. Tony was incredibly generous and read him almost too well, knowing that this was what he needed. He was a very lucky man and he knew it.

The only thing that was on his mind now was actually Tony himself. The man was preoccupied with something, something that was making him nervous. It was so unlike the man that it concerned Harry. He didn’t prod, not yet. Tony had seemingly resolved his internal debate himself at some point yesterday, relaxing and laughing with Harry and his friends as though he didn’t have a care in the world. He’d needed to get away as much as Harry had, if not more.

Harry couldn’t imagine what Tony’s life had been like in the interim between his disappearance and then rescue. Saying that it had been ‘hard’ would be like saying that the Voldemort War had been ‘hard’ on Harry. The man was normally a bit possessive of him anyway, but now he could sense a bit of unease in having Harry out of sight. It was like the man expected him to disappear again. He was slowly gaining ground on absolving the man of his guilt over Harry’s disappearance and how long it had taken to find him. Tony was faultless in the situation; all of his friends were. Now it was just making the man see it.

Harry yawned, stretched lazily and flicked his fingers with a soft ‘_Tempus’._ He blinked in surprise at the time, past ten in the morning. Next to his ear, a sleepy, husky voice murmured, “Damn, I haven’t slept that late in years.”

Harry barely had to turn his head to meet Tony’s warm brown eyes, relaxed at the moment even though he knew the brilliant man’s mind was probably already whirling with thoughts. Tony’s mind hardly ever shut down enough for him to just _be,_ one of the consequences of having an IQ that probably couldn’t be charted. The man had never actually sat down for an assessment, claiming he didn’t need to know the random number he would be assigned.

Harry simply hummed in response, enjoying the quiet and the presence of his beloved next to him. It felt _normal,_ much to his relief. He’d had the irrational fear after waking up that something vital about their relationship would have changed, that they wouldn’t be the same. That perhaps in the interim of almost five years Tony would have eventually moved on, moved past him. The sheer relief he’d felt when he realized it was still there, that they were still _them,_ was shockingly strong.

They got up eventually, only yawns breaking the comfortable silence. That and Tony’s slightly heated looks at his current state of undress. That had been another tension off his shoulders, realizing that the man was still as attracted to him as he’d been before. The first time they’d had sex after his rescue had been slow, gradual as they relearned each other, but thankfully it hadn’t been as awkward or forced as he’d been worried it would be.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs to join Draco and Luna for breakfast, Harry was the first to spot the additional person at the table and grinned in delight.

“Teddy!”

The teenager who’d been sitting at the table with warm amber eyes and soft brown hair looked up, his hair turning vividly aqua in delight. He stood up, made his way around the table and threw his arms around Harry, laughing.

Harry held onto his godson for a long moment, not even resisting the sensation of his eyes watering. He’d missed his godson so much, so very much. Teddy had graduated Hogwarts during his time _away,_ so to speak, something Harry regretted missing. Being banned from his home country aside, he wouldn’t have let such a small thing stop him from missing his godson’s graduation. Remus and Tonks’ son was very bright and clever, mischievous enough to make his Marauder heritage proud.

“I couldn’t believe it when they told me they’d found you,” Teddy whispered, holding tight. “I got a Portkey over here in an instant when I heard you and Tony were going to be visiting.”

Teddy let go of him long enough to wrap an arm around Tony’s shoulders and drag him into a quick hug, surprising the other. He’d never been very touchy-feely with others, but he liked Teddy a lot. It had been intimidating to meet Harry’s son (or as good as), when they’d really started dating. They had clicked well though, Teddy was respectful of Tony’s boundaries and amazed by his intelligence, while Tony appreciated Teddy’s sense of humor and his Metamorphagus ability.

“I’m glad to see you, Tony,” Teddy said, smiling. “We missed having you around.”

Tony smiled, the expression a little tight with emotion. He’d missed these people as well, but he hadn’t wanted to remind them of who was missing. That and he’d become quite maudlin as the years had gone on without finding Harry. His presence had been a bit toxic towards the end of it. He hadn’t wanted to inflict that side of himself on these people.

Tony and Harry moved to sit at the table, Teddy retaking his seat across from Harry. They helped themselves to the generous breakfast spread the Malfoy elves had provided.

“I’m sorry I missed your graduation, Teddy. How did you do? I know you made your parents proud no matter what, as well as your house. I pegged you for Ravenclaw when you were about seven, you were always reading and learning new things,” Harry smiled.

“Gran told me that!” Teddy said with a laugh. “She said everyone else was guessing Gryffindor for Dad or Slytherin since I was a Black, but you were resolute that I was going into Ravenclaw.”

Harry huffed, “Well of course I was! And really, Slytherin? You had Black heritage sure, but your mother was Black and she was in Hufflepuff!”

Everyone at the table rolled their eyes aside from young Scorpius and little Cassie, even Tony. They’d heard this rant from Harry many times over the years.

Teddy just smirked at him. “I graduated first of my class; I was also given the badge for Head Boy.”

Harry laughed in delight. “Good for you, Teddy! I’m impressed and very proud of you. That takes a lot of hard work. Have you figured out what you want to do now that you’ve graduated?”

Teddy groaned. “I just graduated a month ago, Harry! Give me something of a break before I join the relentless grind of adult life!”

Everybody at the table laughed, the kids joining in at the infectious sound. Cassie had a very sweet little giggling laugh, one that made people smile even if they tried not to.

They chatted about everything and nothing across breakfast, enjoying each other’s company. Harry smiled, feeling truly relaxed. He’d needed this, more than he realized. Covertly eyeing the man next to him he smiled. Tony had needed it as well; he’d likely worked himself into the ground over the past few years. They would come back from this break relaxed and ready to face the world, if it was necessary. And they’d do it together, with the backing of their friends and family.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony's POV of sorts. Sorry this took a while, college classes started again. So once again I'm juggling full-time work and full-time classes. Updates may take a bit until I get a rhythm going, fair warning.
> 
> Warnings: Sappy?  
Disclaimer: I don't own HP or Avengers/Marvel/MCU.

Paris had been exactly what they needed. Tony mentally patted himself on the shoulder in congratulations, it had been one of his better ideas. Visiting the Malfoy family and reconnecting with his godson had done wonders for Harry. He could kick himself for not realizing it before. Of course, the other wouldn’t have been at his best, he’d gone from being a prisoner for almost five years straight into the insanity that was a typical outing with the Avengers.

He’d known Harry was in no way ready to be back on his feet so soon, but the other matched or outdid him for sheer stubbornness. He’d been conditioned to put himself last, to run himself into the ground for the ‘greater good’. He would probably say he was fine if he was on death’s door, rather than admit he wasn’t up to doing anything. Tony gritted his teeth. It was probably for the best that Albus Dumbledore was dead and out of his reach. He would have happily strangled the manipulative old bastard, reputation or no.

Harry was talking to Draco, standing on the second-level balcony that overlooked the back garden.

“I bet you’re not looking forward to sending Scorpius off to school in the fall,” Harry was saying.

“It will be a little strange without having him under foot all day. Of course, Cassie will be keeping us busy, I’m sure,” Draco added wryly.

Harry laughed; Tony just smiled. To say he’d been petrified when he’d first met Scorpius would be something of an understatement. The boy had been five, not quite six. Luckily, he’d erased any lingering tensions by chattering on and easily involved Tony in his usual hijinks and shenanigans. With the quiet reassurance from Harry that there was no ‘right’ way to go about being around a child, Tony had happily immersed himself in it. Scorpius was cheerful and clever; he’d been easy to get used to.

Tony had always been somewhat terrified of his youngest fans. Kids made him nervous, he was always worried that due to his intelligence and the way his mind worked he would be impatient with them. The last thing he _ever_ wanted to be was another Howard Stark. The closed off, detached behavior of his obsession with finding Steve Rogers, or when he did deign to pay attention to his son, a sort of sneering superiority. _Nothing_ Tony had ever done had been enough to please Howard Stark.

He was relieved to realize that he wasn’t necessarily destined to be the same kind of man as his father. Scorpius liked him, a lot. The happy shriek he’d given when he spotted Harry and Tony was not faked in any way. Cassie, thankfully, was just as easy to be around as her brother, even though she was even younger than Scorpius had been. Beautiful, smart and just a bit sassy.

“I wonder how much the Hogwarts curriculum has changed since we were there,” Harry mused, dragging Tony out of his thoughts. “It will be interesting for the students, I’m sure.”

“You’d have to ask one of the Weasley family to find out,” Draco said evenly. When Harry looked at him in surprise, he said, “Luna and I are sending the children to Beauxbatons. While their godfather is not allowed to step foot in his birth country, we refuse to send our children there. I know you’ll show up for their important events and such, I would rather_ not_ have you challenge local authorities to do so.”

There was an unreadable expression on Harry’s face. Tony blew out a slow breath, controlling his anger. The sheer _stupidity _of the British wizarding authorities never failed to amaze him. He’d debated going there and speaking on Harry’s behalf, but his beloved had talked him out of it. While he appreciated the gesture, he pointed out that the backwards-minded populace wouldn’t likely listen to him in the first place since he was a non-magical individual.

“The Malfoy family has attended Hogwarts for the last hundred years or more,” Harry said quietly.

Draco shrugged. “All the more reason to change things up a bit. It’s dangerous for us to become stagnant.”

Harry said nothing more on the subject, but Tony could see the mixed expressions chasing themselves across his features. Guilt, worry, gratitude. He blew out a shaky breath and changed the subject. Catching Draco’s eyes as the conversation turned to lighter subjects, he nodded his thanks. Draco just smirked back at him, the smug bastard.

-

That night Tony and Harry went out to dinner at a casual wizarding restaurant that Draco had recommended. Wizarding since they assured the privacy of their clientele, meaning for once Tony’s face wasn’t likely to be splashed across the morning papers. They’d both still been clearly recognized, surprising Tony. Harry was a given, he was an international notoriety in the wizarding world thanks to the idiocy of his Ministry. Somehow, Tony hadn’t realized that he was known, as was his alter ego so to speak, amongst the supernatural population as well as the rest of the world.

Still, they’d been able to enjoy their dinner with relative privacy before just strolling around a Parisian park nearby, enjoying the warm, mild weather and the clear night sky. The break had been a welcome change in his routine, the lack of press dogging his heels a welcome breath of fresh air. He had been in the public eye for so long he hadn’t realized how much the break had been needed.

Harry was still not in the best of physical shape, so they chose to stop in near enough the middle of the park, sitting on the grass near the edge of a pond. The surface was completely still, void of any animal life. The still, mirror-like surface snagged the moonlight and reflected it into the trees, lighting up the night almost as well as the distant fluorescent lamps. A few fireflies lazily floated in the air, lighting a random flower or bush in a flicker of warm amber.

Harry closed his eyes, tilting his head back. It was about the most relaxed Tony had seen him in years. After a few moments he just let himself fall back against the grass, breathing so easily Tony wondered if he hadn’t actually fallen asleep. This relaxed, the tension eased from around his eyes and mouth, his shoulders released their stiff posture and sagged a little.

Green eyes flicked open and caught his own. Tony wasn’t embarrassed at having been caught watching the other, Harry knew how much he fascinated him. A faint flush of color lit Harry’s pale cheekbones, his skin slowly gaining a healthier tone. After a moment he said quietly, “Thank you for this, Tony. I didn’t realize how much I needed this until we got here. Visiting Draco and Luna was a welcome bonus.”

“I figured we could both use the break,” Tony admitted. “You had just gotten out of a terrible situation and then ended up in one of our crazy adventures. I’d been moving from one insane scenario to another, just trying not to think. It’s why I got into so many of those fights as Iron Man. It was easier for me to stay busy and focused on a fight. During the downtime it was harder not to think about you and what might have happened to you.”

“I figured,” Harry answered, staring at him with a quiet intensity. It made Tony wish he would blink. The other had a way of looking at him that made him feel as though he was looking _through_ him.

“We’re similar in a lot of ways,” Harry mused, more talking out loud than anything. “I think that’s why we clashed a lot to begin with. Neither one of us was the best at dealing with our emotions. We’ve gotten better at it, but more with each other than anyone else.”

“I didn’t know this was going to turn into a psychologist’s session,” Tony huffed.

Harry rolled his eyes. “It’s not, you daft sod. We were just talking.”

“I may be many things,” Tony began with a theatrical sort of offended tone, “but by the way I understand British slang, I am not any sort of ‘daft’!”

Harry sniggered. “That you are not,” he agreed, “please accept my most humble of apologies.”

“Since I am in a good mood, I will accept it,” Tony snarked back, “though it was plebian at best.”

Harry burst out laughing. “Plebian?!”

“What can I say,” Tony said, laughing himself, “I turn into a snob if I try and talk the way Draco does!”

They both cracked up laughing at that.

“I do have a question for you,” Tony said seriously, once he stopped laughing.

“What is it?”

Tony took a deep breath, bracing himself. “Remember the fact I asked you to marry me before you disappeared?”

Spotting Harry’s curious, puzzled expression, he hurried to continue and ended up… rambling. “I was wondering if you wanted to do the whole, you know, marriage thing while we were here in Paris. You never struck me as the sort that wanted the big shindig it would turn into if the media got a hold of it. I just thought while we were here with your family if you wanted to –”

He got cut off, sharply, when Harry pulled himself into a seated position with impressive speed and caught his lips in a sudden passionate kiss. Which, who was he to turn that down? He kissed Harry back, eagerly savoring the unique taste that always reminded him of Harry. It mingled with a soft tingling in his skin that he’d realized was Harry’s magic. It was a heady sensation; one he’d rapidly become addicted to.

Once they parted, both breathing a bit heavily, Tony mentally shook himself, trying to remember the track of conversation before.

“You always say you’re not the sappy type of romantic, but that is utterly sappy, Tony Stark,” Harry said with a soft smirk. “Gods, that sounds _perfect _to me. Honestly, I was wondering if you wouldn’t be better off with someone other than me, I always seem to bring a shit-ton of issues to our relationship.”

“Like I don’t?!” Tony snorted. “Or are you conveniently forgetting the mess I turned into after Afghanistan? We both have issues, gorgeous. But damn, I couldn’t think of who I’d rather work through them with. You just _get _me, you always have. I couldn’t even begin to explain how much that means to me.”

Harry smiled softly. “You don’t need to.”

Tony suddenly looked a bit sheepish. “I’m glad you said you would, I kinda paid my pilot extra to turn around and go get Hermione, Pepper and Rhodey. They have no clue why they’re coming to Paris; they just think it’s a vacation. Hermione might’ve guessed though; I was kind of rattling over the idea before we left.”

Harry snorted out a laugh. “You just convinced James and Pepper to come to Paris for a random vacation?”

Tony just awkwardly grinned.

* * *

When they woke up the next morning, they informed Draco, Luna and Teddy of their decision. Luna was delighted, almost squealing in happiness as she hugged first Harry and then him breathless. Draco was obviously just as pleased, though in a far more subtle manner. When they had a moment of privacy later on that day, he’d just pleasantly informed Tony, “My warnings from when you first started your relationship still stand.” Somehow, that was more of an intimidating warning than the rather explicit one Teddy had given him when they were first introduced.

They had gone as a group to greet Rhodey, Pepper and Hermione at the airstrip. Hermione had warmly hugged her best friend and Tony, smiling at them both. Rhodey had been delighted to see Tony, though he’d teased him about dragging them off for a random vacay, “Why didn’t you do this before?!”

Pepper had just smiled in her knowing, Pepper-ish way. Tony had a strong suspicion the woman already knew; it was a scary talent of hers. She seemed to know Tony better than he knew himself on occasion. While Pepper had met Draco and Luna before, Rhodey never had. It had been an entertaining introduction. Later on, Rhodey had said in a quiet aside, “I didn’t realize there was someone that could outdo you in being prissy.”

Tony had burst out laughing. Once he calmed down, he explained the reason why the saying had been so humorous. James just shook his head. They had informed the new arrivals of the real reason for their ‘vacation’ that evening at dinner. All of them had been delighted, though Pepper had confirmed his suspicion. “You got engaged and then he disappeared for five years. You didn’t know whether he was dead or alive. So of course, after finding him you weren’t going to let him slip through your fingers again.”

Harry had chuckled. “She just called you possessive, lover.”

Tony simply shrugged. “If the shoe fits.”

The next day they had all ventured into the French version of Diagon Alley, called Rue de Rose. It was elegant and classy in the normal way, looking for the most part like all the high-end shopping courts in the regular Parisian world. There, Draco had directed them unerringly into a suitable clothier, where Rhodey, Tony and Pepper had experienced the novelty of being fitted for clothing wizarding style. While the owner had clearly recognized both Tony and Harry, she behaved with a professional manner that put most people to shame.

Hermione, Luna and Harry had gone into another section. While Tony had rolled his eyes at the old tradition, he put up with it. He was still just pleased that he was finally going to make Harry _his._ Pepper had it right, there was no way he was going to leave it for another year or so, even another few _months._ He’d waited for this for almost six years now. Long enough.

Draco had directed the seamstress with brisk efficiency born of necessity. He was in here every few months being fitted for different outfits for his Lordship and the few times a year he had to sit on the Wizengamot, the magical government responsible for Harry’s exile. He told Tony he had thought about taking his title out of the country entirely in protest, but Harry had convinced him to stay. It was better to know what the British society was up to than be blindsided by some new crazy stunt they’d decided on.

For Tony, watching his long-time friend stare not so discreetly at Pepper in her elegant pale bronze gown was worth putting up with a suit-fitting. Though he had to give the wizarding method props for the ease of the process and the speed involved in measurements and such. Once she was finished, Pepper stepped down from her stool with the assistance of one of the seamstress’ aids, walking in the direction of where the rest of their party was.

Draco was already wearing his own choice of slate grey with a pale silvery-blue tie. Teddy looked handsome and far older than eighteen in a deep bronze, his tie a warm coral color. The seamstress had kitted out Rhodey in a dark navy blue with a tie that was almost the color of Pepper’s gown. Tony could bet that Draco’s tie would nearly match Luna’s gown. It was one of the oldest tried and true ways to link a couple’s outfits for any fancy gathering.

The color of choice for Tony was a crisp white cotton shirt, pure black trousers fitted to his long legs and a sharp, tailored jacket in a deep charcoal. Paired with simple but shiny black shoes and sterling silver cufflinks, it was one of the most comfortable things he’d ever worn. Pepper headed back in his direction, holding a long, skinny box in her hands. He almost pouted, recognizing the shape. He hated wearing ties with a _passion._

The tie was a pale, shimmery silver color with hints of gold and green. Tony had to admit, it looked nice with the rest of his outfit, once he reluctantly submitted to letting Pepper put it on for him. His sulky behavior made his companions all laugh, they knew how much he hated the things. While they were waiting for the others, Draco led the way to a jeweler he knew, Tony having not picked out the rings he wanted in the States since the minute he did so the press would know, disclosures or no.

Wizarding society was much more rigid about that sort of thing. Confidentiality was taken very seriously, assured with spells that prevented any type of attempt to give information. Plus, while a few younger witches and wizards had gotten a bit flustered when they noticed him, their general attitude toward celebrities was to leave them alone for the most part. It was quite refreshing and very different from what Harry had told him about the British wizards. Honestly, the more he heard about that society the more he felt they were best rid of it.

While there were many stunning, intricate pieces in the store, one set immediately caught his eyes. The bands were made for two men, one slightly slimmer than the other. They were made with tungsten, one of the least conductive metals. The inventor in Tony was pleased with that, he wouldn’t want to get a nasty shock if he was wearing the ring in the shop. They were highly polished and silver in color, with a pale electric blue color in the middle that shone brightly. They were marked as ‘engravable’ as well.

He indicated them to the shopkeeper, who withdrew them and placed the rings in front of him. He remained quiet as he did so, seeming to sense that he needed to stay quiet. Tony _detested_ the shop owners who prattled on about their items or tried to sell their more expensive sets. “This set please, and can you engrave this onto both?” Using a scrap of paper and a nearby fountain pen to scratch out a quick design.

Rhodey caught the edge of the design and looked at it a bit closer. He snorted. “Sappy,” he teased, “so very sappy.”

“Take that back!” Tony insisted with feigned insult.

“No!”

Thanks to that wonderful thing that was magic, the rings were back in his possession in a box of dark navy-blue crushed velvet in under twenty minutes. The rest of their party was done and waiting for them across the street near the clothier shop where they began. Hermione looked very pretty in a dark coral one-shoulder gown. Her hair was done up in a style that suited her pretty face. Luna looked stunning in a pale silver-blue halter gown that fell to her knees with a longer train on the back that almost reached the floor. Her long white-blonde hair was left loose aside from a single braid that trained it to fall over her right shoulder.

Harry… Tony knew he was staring but he couldn’t help it. Gods he looked… _gorgeous._ The suit he wore was as fitted as Tony’s, though it was a soft silver color with hints of gold and green embroidery on the inside of the cuffs, the collar and the hems of the trousers. The soft, pale silver made his black hair stand out sharply and his green eyes _glowed._

Harry finally seemed to realize that Tony was staring at him and looked up, flushing a bit under the intensity of his look. He made a soft humming sound and said, “I always liked the darker colors on you. They suit you.”

Tony just smirked a bit, letting Harry know he knew what the other was trying to do. Still, he played along. “I’ve always preferred the darker colors. You, on the other hand, look amazing in lighter colors. Seriously, that has to be one of my favorites that you’ve worn over the past few years.”

They left, headed for the Malfoy estate. Draco and Luna had been more than pleased to offer their spacious back garden for the occasion, their small army of house elves delighted to whip up a fancy dinner for the party. Thanks to the way magicals treated these sorts of things, getting the official certificate had been a cinch, Draco was even able to perform the ceremony for the pair.

It was as private and perfect as the couple could have hoped for, surrounded by family and friends. Scorpius had been delighted to be part of it, bringing Tony the box with the rings right on cue. Teddy had proudly stood for his godfather, smiling ear-to-ear. Harry had all but raised him, it was his prerogative to be here for him. While not yet legal in the States for the most part, the French Ministry of Magic gave them an official copy from the non-magical department in France. So according to the French, they were now Mr. Tony and Harry Stark. Tony had been bowled over when Harry insisted on the surname. He would keep Potter and Black as titles for whenever he had to deal with his companies or magical stuff, but he was firm. He was elated to be known as Harry James Stark.

Smiling, Tony sat down with his new husband and their company for dinner. He couldn’t resist running his finger over the smooth metal of the band that proclaimed for the world that Harry was now _his._ This was easily the happiest moment of his life. And it was all thanks to the amazing man sitting next to him. He couldn’t be more thankful he’d decided to help the Avengers in Sokovia. He owed them every bit of happiness he now felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What I'm visualizing about the rings, sort of:  
https://patrickadairdesigns.com/products/tungsten-glowstone-ring


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a while, college classes and holiday work are kicking my butt! I should be done with classes from December 11- January 17th, so hopefully my writing will pick up soon. Also, it's NaNoWriMo! Yay! That's helping word count as I've been working on updates for my FOUR current stories (sometimes I think I'm crazy!). This isn't as long as I would have liked but it's a nice catch-up on things.
> 
> I do not own either Harry Potter or Marvel, sadly.

Morning headlines blared the news in the _Daily Prophet._ Despite being an outsider to his own country for more than ten years, Harry Potter still sold newspapers. Reporters of the modern age followed Rita Skeeter’s example; the poisonous witch having retired a few years prior. The _Prophet_ was more than willing to run some scandalous headline about the ex-Brit’s actions, touting it as an example of why their Ministry had been right to kick him out.

The newest one had the main editor for the paper salivating with glee. Married to, of all things, a _Muggle?!_ He’d cackled his way through approving the article, sending it off to the printers with nary a second thought. It would be something that would come back to bite him in the future, but his foresight was, to his detriment, negligible.

Amongst the many morning commuters into the Ministry was one gentleman with deep red hair, faded a bit with age and unfortunately graced by his aged father’s receding hairline. He straightened his glasses, picked up a copy of the paper to peruse in his office and walked nonchalantly through the Atrium. Reviewing the article with a bit more critical eye, he nodded decisively. He would need to get in touch with some foreign friends, it seemed.

When Percival ‘Percy’ Weasley left the office that afternoon, he had two goals in mind. Get a hold of Harry and somehow manage to have a private conversation with his new spouse Tony Stark. Harry may not have managed to convert him to the idea of Muggle contacts or laser corrective surgery for his eyes, but he had managed to sell him on the convenience of things such as laptops and the internet. Skype was an intriguing method of instant communication over a distance that saved clothes from unnecessary ashes.

Percy knew his decision to support Harry bemused many of those who had known ‘strait-laced, brown-nosing’ Percy as he had been before. Before. Before the war, before the Ministry had happily sunk to the blatant prejudice and oppression that was a madman. Before he’d gotten the smack to the face he needed to realize that there were things more important than money.

After the Final Battle at Hogwarts, Percy had approached Harry. He owed the other more than one apology for his words and actions over the years. He expected to grovel, to beg, to be forced into the position of ostracized outsider for years. Harry had lost everyone he’d considered family; he’d fought against the self-same Ministry Percy had happily served for years. Instead he’d been blindsided when he found unconditional forgiveness from the teen, who stared at him with the eyes of a man thrice his age.

In return, when Harry had fled England after having the warrants put up for his arrest and execution, Percy remained one of his most dedicated supporters that was still living on English soil. He didn’t actually work for the Ministry; he just had an office there. Percival was a barrister, which the wizarding world called an Arguer. Harry had been paying him a ridiculous amount to keep him on retainer, far more than he needed to. In return Percy did his best to try and overturn the warrants and trial-by-absence in the Ministry, doggedly pushing his way through an apprenticeship in the wizarding world and college courses in the Muggle world so that he knew all of the applicable laws that may help Harry.

He'd met Tony Stark in person exactly twice, first at a Christmas party the year before the pair got engaged and then in Iceland, where the shaken, distraught genius had asked to examine the plane that had been abandoned there. Nothing had come of it, even with the billionaire’s advanced A.I. lending a hand. Since Harry’s abduction, he’d been embroiled in Ministry politics, doing his best to support Hermione Granger as she ran her best friend’s massive company and held down the fort on his two titles, despite the Ministry insisting he was dead.

Apparating to the elegant townhome he shared with his wife Audrey and his two girls, Percy walked into his office and shut the door, locking it by Muggle means. The high-end Muggle electronics in the room had been treated to be magic-safe, but he still took adequate precautions. The room was cleaned by Muggle means and his daughters knew that this room was off-limits for their antics.

He turned on the Stark laptop gifted to him by Tony that first Christmas, still outpacing any of its nearest competitors despite being an older model. He settled into the office chair and tapped the appropriate keys to log on, opening Skype and signing in as well. Verifying the high-end camera was working properly he pinged Harry’s laptop, waiting patiently.

“JARVIS, enlarge please,” was the first thing he heard. Percy got the distinct impression that he’d caught not just Harry with his call. It was only confirmed when the visual popped up properly, revealing Harry, Tony, Hermione, Draco and another individual.

“Percy,” Harry said, smiling brightly. “I’m glad to see you, I’ve been meaning to get a hold of you.”

“I would hope so,” Percy said sternly, “considering I found out you were even _alive _because of Hermione.”

Harry looked genuinely contrite. “Sorry, I really did mean to get a hold of you. Things have been just a bit hectic recently.”

The man Percy didn’t know gave a small snort. “That would be an understatement,” he said dryly.

“Percival Weasley, a pleasure to meet you. I’m Lord Potter’s barrister and legal advisor,” Percy said pointedly.

“Sorry,” the man flushed, “I am Bruce Banner. One of the Avengers and a scientist specializing in gamma radiation.”

“Be nice, Percy! How are Audrey and the girls?” Hermione asked.

“Doing well, thank you,” Percy smiled. “Both are keeping us busy with their antics, seems like they’re trying to top their uncles Fred and George for the amount of mishaps they get into.”

Harry outright laughed.

“Harry, I’m sending you some paperwork I need signed, today preferably. It’s on what you had Hermione mention to me a couple of weeks ago. I’m assuming the fax number I was just anonymously sent in a chat would be from JARVIS?” Percy directed this last to Tony, who nodded.

“Fine,” Harry sighed, standing up and leaving the room.

Any sign of humor or a smile slid off Percy’s face when Harry left the room and those watching him straightened, sensing the sudden tension.

“I’m assuming your AI can tell you when he would be approaching the room again?” Percy questioned.

Tony nodded, remaining quiet.

“What I am about to tell you needs to remain of the utmost confidence, Harry doesn’t need to know about it. An announcement hit the _Daily Prophet,_ our major paper, regarding your marriage. As you can guess, it’s sparked some renewed conversation on his outstanding warrant and the kill on sight order that is currently standing.”

“Their marriage was in France though,” Bruce frowned. He’d been very surprised when Tony and Harry had revealed to him that they had officially exchanged vows in France during their little holiday.

“It was, but a British citizen was in France on holiday and saw the announcement in a local paper. It’s a standard routine, a way for French citizens to congratulate each other on their marriages. It’s a big thing to chose a commitment to someone in the wizarding world, since for the most part they are irreversible.”

“Amongst the least flattering comments on the announcement was my brother, Ronald,” Percy paused here. What he was doing, what he was about to say, was very difficult for one raised in a tight-knit family where supporting each other had been so important.

“Ronald was amongst the first individuals to press for Harry’s arrest and remains one of the strongest voices. His rhetoric has only gotten more poisonous over the years, bleeding over from old insecurities, jealousy and the fact that his own career stalled badly a few years ago. He’s furious, to say the least. I would not be surprised at this point if he actually tried to kill Harry himself.”

“Has he really gotten that bad?” Hermione asked, looking shocked.

Percy sighed. “Yes. He’s gotten unbalanced, obsessive. Which unfortunately is going to give us our best opportunity here soon. He saw the papers, saw that Harry had married a Muggle.”

He looked directly at Tony. “He’s going to approach you, Tony. He has assumed or convinced himself that nobody would actually _want_ Harry with his history romantically. So he’s assumed that Harry has not told you about magic. He’s going to approach you, try and tell you that Harry is dangerous and unstable, that he’s committed murder and fought a war and all sorts of things. They’re going to sound worse because he’s going to try and avoid mentioning magic.”

Tony’s eyes flashed in anger and he could see even through the camera that the billionaire was gritting his teeth. “But I can’t do what I want and knock the little shit to pieces, can I?”

“No,” Percy said softly, “you can’t. You need to get him to mention magic to you, for all intents and purposes an uneducated Muggle. If you can get him to tell you about magic, the American Aurors will arrest him in a second. They have very strict rules against breaking the Statute of Secrecy there. You can’t make it obvious you’re leading him to it, but he needs to be obvious.”

“Why? Why target him, your own brother?” Bruce asked.

“Because my brother is dangerous. He echoes our mother and the late Headmaster’s thinking process. He needs to be taken off the streets, for the good of everyone. And because the Americans authorized the use of Veritaserum in all trials almost a hundred years ago, just after Grindelwald.”

Draco sucked in a sudden breath in understanding.

“Veritaserum?” Bruce asked again, clearly puzzled.

“A potion,” Tony said quietly, eyes locked on Percy. “Highly regulated by magical individuals. It is colorless, odorless and tasteless. Three drops and you will spill every secret that you have ever held over the course of your life when asked, all the way back to sneaking in your parent’s cookie jar at three.”

“You want Ron questioned under Veritaserum. Why?” Hermione asked softly.

“Because,” Percy inhaled, “if he goes on record spewing his thoughts, his poisonous envy and jealousy, his baseless vitriol on Harry, I think I can get the kill on sight order thrown out, if not the whole thing. And because I think he may have had something to do with Harry’s abduction in the first place.”

“Percy?” Draco said, voice cracking. They were all visibly shocked.

“He was far too happy when Harry was abducted,” Percy said softly. “Far too satisfied, too convinced that Harry would never be found alive. I think he knew what was going to happen, if not outright helped them himself.”

“I can’t keep this from Harry,” Tony croaked. “He deserves to know.”

“He will, eventually. But you have to keep it from him Tony.”

“Why?”

“Because he’d kill Ronald himself and give the British Ministry the incident it needed to arrest him.”

Tony groaned pitifully. “Can we go back to France?”

“I’m sorry to drop all of this on you,” Percy said softly. “Congratulations on your bonding and know that my first warning to you still stands. Harry adores you; you make him happier than I have ever seen him. He’s going to need you in his corner.”

Rich brown eyes flashed with determination, love and pride. “I will be, always.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron's jealousy and insecurities drove me nuts in the books, just saying. I'm just exacerbating these issues here, making him worse than he ever was in the books. Fairly good chapter here though, over 4k words!
> 
> I don't own Harry Potter or Marvel/MCU. They belong to their respective companies. I'm just playing in their worlds :D

When Ronald Weasley exited MACUSA and stepped into the bright sunlight and controlled chaos that was New York City, he was momentarily blinded. He raised a hand to shield his blue eyes and stared at the crush of Muggles and their machines with cynical eyes. At one point in time in his life, he would have enjoyed experiencing all of this, looking around with all of his father’s inherited wide-eyed wonder. When considered from the point of view of magic, what the Muggles had accomplished was nothing short of extraordinary.

Now, hardened by war and other things, the beauty of what surrounded him was lost on Ron. Now he cringed at being amongst so many Muggles, warily watching all of them as they slid by him without so much as a passing glance. It suited his purpose for now, to go unnoticed. Still, it seemed to bring awareness to the bitter taste that always lingered in his mouth at the injustices life had dealt him. His eyes hardened. Hopefully, he would deal with one of the reasons for his invisibility amongst Muggles _and _wizards soon.

At eleven years old Ron had been excited to attend Hogwarts. Excited to get away from the smothering of his mother and make a name for himself. It had been a difficult prospect from the beginning, being the sixth son, but he was sure he could find a niche for himself somewhere. There had to be _something_ his older brothers hadn’t done first. And then the twins had blurted out that _Harry Potter_ was on the train.

The other compartments hadn’t been full, that had been the first excuse to fall off his lips when confronted with the Boy-Who-Lived, a childhood legend in the wizarding world now. The reality had been… less than impressive. Ron had grown up reading the stories geared towards children on the boy hero’s adventures. He’d spent his childhood at his mother’s knee listening to the hushed, reverent whispers of the adults around him. The scrawny boy with taped glasses and wild hair had not been what he was expecting to find.

And then he’d realized that Harry Potter of all people had been raised by _Muggles._ He knew even less than Ron about the wizarding world. Here was a new prospect, that he, Ronald Weasley, could be the one to shepherd and escort the famous boy through the wizarding world. The idea had taken hold and only grown more possible when Harry had coolly turned down the hand of Draco Malfoy, one of the people Ron had never even _hoped_ to be equal to, let alone superior.

For once he had something a _Malfoy_ did not. It had gone to his head a little bit, along with the notice he suddenly received from his peers at the side of their famous hero. _Dumbledore_ had even noticed him, gave him points even to help win the Cup their first year! Sure, the bushy-haired Hermione had gotten them as well, but she was used to it, surely it had been nothing to the bossy girl. She was a friend yes, for the benefit of his grades. Oh, he felt something for her other than that, but without Harry between them they would never had become friends.

He had practically fainted when Dumbledore had wanted to speak to him _personally_ before leaving on the train at the end of his first term. He had told Ron that it was important to keep Harry on a certain path, to keep him away from students that would give the boy hero a tarnished reputation. To keep him humble and unaware of his Noble House. Ron had been eager to help, worried that if Harry found out about his family, he would abandon Ron for _Malfoy_ and Ron would fall back into the category of unnoticed sixth son.

He felt for the most part that he had done his part well, aside from a few incidents. Having his leg broken by Black hadn’t been fun, nor had it been easy to stand aside and let Harry participate in the Tournament. Of course he’d thought the other had entered on purpose, who wouldn’t have wanted the recognition and the money?! It had always been one of his biggest insecurities and jealousy toward Harry, the amount of money the other was unknowingly sitting on. That sort of financial security was something the Weasleys could only have dreamed of.

Harry being bi-sexual and having a strong preference for men was an unpleasant and unpredicted surprise. If Dumbledore had been alive the man would have had a plan for it, but he had been killed by _Snape._ Harry surviving the war had been an unpleasant surprise as well, Ron had been warned by the Headmaster that Harry would likely die in the Final Battle and there would be a power void. He had been more than ready to step into that void and into the spotlight, _finally._

Instead Harry had survived, even more powerful than Dumbledore had thought he was. Possibly even more powerful than the old wizard himself, though Ron angrily scoffed at those that suggested it. Seething at the injustice of it all and Harry Potter’s inability to just _die_ when he was supposed to, Ron had been careful to seed thoughts of distrust and discord towards him throughout the wizarding populace. The tumultuous end to his relationship with Hermione helped spur him along.

She should have had more _gratitude._ He was a pureblood, she was a Muggleborn girl with an average face and body at best. He had been bestowing attention and love on her and should have had it returned. Instead she had thought she deserved _better._ Someone who was _smart_ and _motivated_, whatever the hell that was supposed to mean. He was more ambitious than she would ever have realized. She had left him, for whatever future she could make.

When he’d found out that Harry had taken his family money and titles overseas and was under the protection of MACUSA, he was infuriated. It had only added more fuel to the unstable fire when he’d realized that Hermione was helping him run his family businesses. When Malfoy had followed along, snubbing English society for the upper crust of France, he sneered. It was what he had feared all along come true, Harry had left him behind for the git.

He’d never equated his own actions with Harry’s distance. Nor had he ever quite realized that if he didn’t want to drive his friend away, he shouldn’t have gotten him exiled from his own country. All was not well in the land of Weasley now. But then he’d gotten the newspaper a few days ago and seen the scandalous headline in the social pages. Harry had married a _Muggle_ man of all things, a billionaire inventor with a playboy past to rival anyone Ron had ever known.

So here he was, in New York City, regaining his bearings amongst American muggles so that he could find out where Harry’s new spouse lived. He doubted anyone would really want the scrawny git with a hell of a lot of baggage. He doubted Harry had ever told him about his past, who would want someone so messed up? He certainly would not have. He’d debated it at one point, wondering if he could go against his own sexuality and seduce the naïve Boy-Who-Lived, take the easy road to fame and fortune.

Staring at the coordinates he’d gotten from one of his Muggleborn co-workers, he contemplated the numbers for a long moment before finding a shadowy alley perfect for his purposes. Making sure he was out of sight, he Apparated. The crack at his disappearance was loud, he’d never bothered to work on his stealth training in his shelved career. Nobody had noticed him; he’d never been promoted in almost ten years. Apparently, people only noticed him when Harry Potter was around.

Ron stared at the sleek metal and concrete building with a stylized ‘A’ that he’d appeared in front of. It was impressive, he’d give them that. Ostentatious as well, hardly blending in with the grounds around it. It practically _reeked _of money and it made Ron envious. What did he have to do to be financially stable, let alone afford something like this? Straightening his plain black trousers, white shirt and black jacket, Ron walked inside the building.

Immediately he realized that he was a bit underdressed for this. If the people bustling around in the lobby weren’t wearing a smart military-styled uniform, they wore silks and fine cottons, wools and a bit of leather. It was like he’d walked into a world of Malfoys. Gritting his teeth in discomfort, not liking how much he stood out for the wrong reasons, he strode purposefully up to the secretary at the large semicircular desk.

“Can I help you?” She said politely.

“I would like to speak with Mr. Stark if he is residence,” Ron said, flashing her a quick smile. “My name is Ronald Weasley.”

A look of subtle disbelief entered her eyes as she flicked a minute glance at his appearance. “Do you have an appointment?”

“No, but I’m sure he would like to speak with me.”

“I’m sorry Mr. --,” she began.

“It’s Weasley, Ronald Weasley,” Ron held up a hand to stop her. “I’m aware you’re about to tell me he doesn’t meet with people without an appointment, but at least call him first, yeah?”

She gave him a slightly frosty smile and said, “Very well.”

Picking up the sleek phone behind the desk, she hit a single, unmarked button and waited. Then when another voice came on the line she said, “Would you let Mr. Stark know that there is a Mr. Weasley down here to speak with him. He’s in the lobby.”

She hung up the line and gestured to a chair sitting across the way against the windows. Registering her clear dismissal, Ronald sat. Uneasily, he watched the parade of people through the lobby, everyone swiping special cards to enter any of the doors on the lobby floor. There weren’t many people in this area, just enough to maintain an air of efficient motion.

He had been sitting for no longer than about ten minutes when he registered a change in people’s demeanors. They were surprised, curious. A few stopped outright in their path, greeting the man that had exited an elevator across the lobby and was strolling in the direction of the secretary’s table. Many curiously followed his movements, eager to figure out where he was headed.

He was tall, not quite Ron’s size but still a respectable height. He wore a tailored suit with the ease of one used to them and a pair of sunglasses. His hair was brown and fell with casual, coiffed perfection around his face. The fitted suit did nothing to hide his excellent physical shape. When he strolled to stand across from Ron with casual dismissive ease, it confirmed Ron’s suspicions. This then was Anthony ‘Tony’ Stark, owner of the building they were in and Harry’s bonded.

Ron would be wary of him but for one thing. He was a wizard. This man, while he would be a formidable opponent in any fight, was a Muggle. No matter how excellent a fighter, with one spell Ron would win. It gave him a heady sort of confidence, this knowledge. A certain conviction, which allowed him to be far bolder than he would be otherwise.

“Mr. Weasley?”

* * *

Tony had been in the midst of signing some paperwork when the call he simultaneously anticipated and dreaded came through. One Ronald Weasley was in the lobby, wishing to speak with him. He gritted his teeth, standing up and making sure his suit jacket was straight and smooth before exiting his office, heading for the elevator. He drummed his fingers against the wall of the shaft, impatiently staring at the numbers.

“JARVIS, record this conversation for posterity, will you?”

“Of course, sir,” the AI instantly agreed.

This was going to be one of the most difficult conversations he was going to have in a while. He was going to have to listen to this piece of shit tell him a bunch of derogatory things about Harry and not lose his temper. He was grateful he knew the truth of most of Harry’s past by now, nothing this little cretin was going to tell him would be a surprise.

He strolled easily across the lobby floor, thankful for his sunglasses. Not only did they let him scan the room unobserved, but he was wearing the ones from his lab that let JARVIS see what he did. “Is he armed?” he asked the AI quietly.

“Yes,” JARVIS responded. “Left wrist, a leather holster that rests flat against his arm underneath his shirt. Presumably he is right-handed and can draw it with reasonable speed. From what I have heard Miss Hermione and Master Harry say about him, he is not the most competent of duelists and both of them can easily outdraw him in a fight.”

“Thank you,” Tony murmured.

He walked over to the secretary (for appearances’ sake), having already spotted the red-head sitting in a chair against the window. He was tall and skinny, with freckles littering his face and blue eyes. He was noticeably wary, eyes flicking back and forth as he watched the people around him. Not comfortable with either technology or normal people, Tony guessed. The majority of wizarding Britain interacted with ‘muggles’ as infrequently as possible, some never left magical society in their lifetimes.

Strolling across the lobby to where he sat, Tony took a deep breath and said, “Mr. Weasley?”

The other looked at him, a slight gleam in his eyes. He stood, topping Tony by a few inches. “Yes, my name is Ronald. I’m a friend of Harry’s.”

Deciding a little jab was in order at the blatant lie, Tony responded, “Hmm. I’m surprised. He’s never mentioned you amongst his friends before.”

Blue eyes visibly flashed. With a tight smile, Ron said, “We argued a few times, he’s probably still upset over them. He likes to hold grudges.”

Tony restrained himself only through a lifetime of control over his emotions and his voice. It was a mark of how long it had been since they had been friends that he knew _nothing_ about Harry, if they had even been true friends in the first place. Harry hold a grudge? Hah! Unless it was under extreme circumstances, he was more likely to hold a grudge than Harry.

“How long have you known Harry?” Ronald continued, eyeing him in a shrewd, sneaky manner. Or so he probably thought. Unfortunately for one wizard, Tony spent his life talking to people that wanted things from him, be it his money, name or body. He was an old hand by now at reading people’s mannerisms and behavior.

“A few years before we were engaged, I thought I had lost him for a time,” Tony replied, letting a little bit of real pain enter his voice.

There was a shimmer of _something_ in the red-head’s eyes, Tony had only just met him but he was certain it was _triumph,_ or something similar.

“Can I speak to you outside, or somewhere a little more private? This conversation isn’t for random ears to hear.”

Tony considered. The way he had MACUSA pegged, they would enter any building in which a wizard had violated their laws and apprehend their target, as brutally as necessary. He would rather not make a scene with this, nor put any of his people at risk. “I have a spacious back patio that would be ideal, it’s private to keep out prying ears.”

He led the way, moving through the grand open-plan hallways of the Avengers facility with the ease of one who knew every nook and cranny, which he should. He’d designed the thing himself, practically from the foundations up. It was one of his more ambitious modern buildings, full of his own advanced, patented technology.

Ronald walked next to him, looking as uncomfortable as he’d ever seen a person. It was clear he did not feel at ease in the slightest around the modern creature comforts or an advanced research lab, which this facility qualified as both. He kept close enough to Tony to avoid getting near any of the people that passed them by, tension increasing in his skinny shoulders the further they went.

Eventually, they reached the back patio. Tony reached out a hand, touched the keypad on the wall and the door slid open. Eyeing it warily, Ronald preceded him through. JARVIS and JACOSTA had cameras everywhere on the facility, he wasn’t worried that they had passed out of the AI’s sight. JACOSTA being the AI he’d chosen to run the Avengers facility.

Tony gestured to the elegant tables in front of them, Ronald taking a seat at one that put his back to the patio wall, facing the doorway. Harry was the same, so was Hermione that he’d noticed, side effects of fighting for the majority of their lives. It was the same thing he saw in Clint, Natasha and Steve, to an extent. Tony sat, at ease with having his back to the door in his own facility. There was nothing that entered here that he didn’t know about. They’d had Ronald pegged from the moment he Apparated onto the grounds, illegally gaining grounds to the property in the first place.

“I’ve known Harry since we were eleven,” Ron said solemnly, “I was his first friend actually. We met on the train to our mutual boarding school. It’s in the Scottish highlands and is very exclusive. Most students only get an invite if their parent’s attended or at least one of them. There are exceptions to the rule, of course.”

“Right from the start Harry was trying to attract attention to himself, he was already an orphan and his parents were very well respected by the alumni of the school. He was raised by his mother’s sister and her family and despite having a well-grounded life, cried abuse constantly throughout our education. None of it was proven, of course,” Ron added blithely.

Tony was already having to restrain himself from leaping over the table and strangling the man’s neck. How _dare_ he turn the very real abuse Harry had suffered against him, let alone say that it was unproven?! His husband _still_ had self-esteem and respect issues from it, decades later. It was only the fact that Harry hadn’t given him their address that stopped him. He’d looked based on what he knew, but the family was likely held under wizarding protection still.

“Later on in our schooling he must have realized that the cries of abuse were falling on deaf ears and turned to having ‘fits’ in the school, claiming that he could feel or see the actions of his parents’ murderer. He entered a competition held at our school for seventeen-year-olds and up despite being fourteen and at the end of the competition one of the others died. The only witnesses to the boys’ death were him and one other,” Ron shrugged.

“We got involved with some people after during our last years of schooling and fought in some battles with the group. As a direct result of his participation, at least four people that he knew died. One was his godfather, but he was ridiculously unstable himself. He’s an ex-con that escaped from prison, I believe he even made the American news. Have you heard of Sirius Black?”

Tony made a vague noise that could be considered recognition. He didn’t dare open his mouth because he was afraid of what he would say. Underneath the table his hands were clenched into fists. He’d known that Ron would twist everything that Harry had been through to make it sound worse than it really was, but none of them had estimated how low he would sink in an attempt to make his point. Using Sirius’ death against Harry, when Ron well knew that death was the one that had gutted him the most?

“He’s spent so much of his life attempting to track down and then kill his parent’s murderer that he’s still unstable, I’m afraid. I doubt his ‘visions’ have gotten any better, he probably says he _retired_ from MI6 but well…,” Ron trailed off. “I just wanted to track you down because I saw the announcement in the papers. Thought you may want to know what you’re really getting yourself into here. I doubt he’s been honest with you, it’s not in his track record.”

Once Tony could control his voice, he said evenly and with the slightest bit of disbelief in his voice, “I’m sure you thought you were doing the best by coming by, Mr. Weasley, but I can assure you that is not the case. I highly doubt my husband was involved in anything so shady as what you’re implying. And what war?” he scoffed.

Standing and gesturing to the building behind them pointedly, he said, “We have never heard of the violence you are implying happened. Certainly not on the scale that it leads the imagination to.”

Hook, set.

“Honestly, Mr. Weasley, it’s like what you’re telling me about, in vague detail, doesn’t even exist in the first place.”

Bait, offered.

He saw a cautious flare of anger in those blue eyes. They looked around, taking in the empty patio. Then he stood and said, in a low voice, “The reason why you haven’t heard of any of this before, Mr. Stark, is magic.”

Bait taken.

Tony scoffed. “Magic? Abracadabra, wave your magic wand? You’re wasting my time, Weasley.”

“Not abracadabra, no, but the wand, yes,” Ron discreetly removed the wand from his left sleeve. “This is mine, I’ve had it since I was twelve.”

He pointed the wand at the teacup in front of them and murmured under his breath. The teacup levitated off the table, hovering in mid-air between the two men. Directly in front of the security camera normally manned by regular Muggle security officers.

_CRACK!_

The sound was as loud as a gunshot, ringing out in the mid-day silence from just beyond the hedges. Ronald whirled around, face paling in panic.

_“Incarcerous!”_ yelled a voice in Latin.

Simultaneously, another yelled, “_Expelliarmus!”_

True to his poor form, Ronald went down immediately, a counter still on his lips.

Two American Aurors, dressed in sleek deep blue uniforms, hurried towards them. The one immediately secured Ronald’s wand and person, hoisting him off the ground and onto his feet by the bonds that secured him at ankles, knees, wrists and shoulders. The other, a slim woman with dark blonde hair and sharp blue eyes, moved to Tony.

“Mr. Stark?” she said, recognizing him instantly. “I’m aware that you know about magic, but is there a likelihood he performed magic in front of your security cameras?”

Over her shoulder, he saw the dawning recognition on Ronald’s face. Holding back a smirk with effort, he nodded to the woman and said, “There is, but my AI is can wipe the footage in an instant. Would you like me to save a copy for your investigation process?”

“Please,” the woman responded, relief clear on her face. “Send it to Holly Bridges at MACUSA Auror Force, if you would. Your husband should have the correct Muggle address if you prefer, or it can be sent by owl.”

Tony strolled over to stand in front of a bound, hapless Ronald. _Definitely not the brightest tool in the shed_, Tony thought sarcastically. It was clear the other had yet to fully process matters.

“Just to make it fully clear to you, Ronald, if not for the fact that I am a civilized man and Harry once regarded you as a friend, I would have happily strangled you myself for what you’ve said about him to me. You supposedly once knew him well, if you ever did than you would know how much your words today would have hurt him. I know _everything_ about my husband’s past, Ronald Weasley. And most of yours, thanks to your relatives and my husband’s sister-at-heart, Hermione Granger.”

Comprehension finally dawned. Ears and nose reddening in anger, Ron drew in a breath, likely to rage at him for the deception. The Aurors chose that moment to Apparate away with their hostage, disappearing far quieter than they’d come.

Tony turned to re-enter the building, tension draining slowly from his shoulders and his fists unclenching. Ron was arrested, Percy’s plan was proceeding handily. Now he would just have to deal with the fallout, including telling his husband that Ron had been here in the first place. He was not looking forward to it.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally a decent length chapter for this fic! I'm done with classes until January 25th, hopefully I can manage a couple more updates at least and some progress ahead of chapters.  
Ron is questioned at MACUSA and worlds are shaken.
> 
> I don't own Harry Potter or Marvel.  
Words: 6,131

Harry stood in his and Tony’s spacious private quarters at the new Avengers facility, staring out the window. His shoulders were rigid with tension, arms crossed with the fingers of his right hand tapping on the frame of the smooth, crystal clear glass. His jaw was rigidly locked, the only reason he was no longer clenching his teeth was because it had been making them hurt from the pressure. He had not trusted himself to speak ever since being informed about Ronald’s presence here.

He was not angry at his husband, Tony would not have wanted to keep something like this from him. The other knew his past, knew how he felt about being kept in the dark. It was something he loathed with every fiber of his being, especially after it had cost him the life of his godfather. With the death of Sirius after so many secrets, he refused to be left in the dark again.

He _was_ furious with both Hermione and Percy, who should have known better than to keep him in the dark. Especially Hermione, who had been with him throughout the entire prophecy fiasco. Of all the people he knew, the two of them conspiring to keep him unaware of their plans hurt the worst. He blew out a shaky breath as he attempted to compose himself.

He understood that they wanted to keep him out of the way to keep Ron from hurting him emotionally or physically. He also understood that they were worried about Ron goading him into a fight and giving the British Ministry the leg it needed to arrest him. Knowing and agreeing with them was two very different things, however. He was not the hot-headed individual who jumped into things any more, nor was he easily pushed into a fight for the most part.

He uncrossed his arms and rolled his shoulders, attempting to chase away the tension in them. Primarily he was just worried. If something had gone wrong, it could have ended up very badly for them all. If Ron had attacked Tony, for example. Or if he’d found Steve Rogers instead, who already had issues with Harry. He shuddered, not wanting to imagine how badly it would have gone if Ron had told his twisted version of things to Steve instead of Tony.

Finally managing to relax a bit of the tension from his frame, Harry turned and studied himself in the mirror. They were going in to MACUSA to prosecute Ronald and witness his questioning. MACUSA may be a bit more relaxed on the wizarding attire thing than the Ministry, but he still wanted to be respectful of wizarding tradition. So he wore black slacks, a crisp ivory silk shirt and an open formal robe in his blended family colors of sapphire blue and silver. The Potter family had chosen the colors of sapphire blue and charcoal grey, while the Blacks had ebony black and silver.

Styled to blend in with the Muggle world, the formal robe looked more like a long trench coat of sorts, only made of satin lined with wool. It was open to almost his waist, buttoned with three silver and pearl buttons from above his waist to the knee, where it flared out again for ease of movement. Along with the wedding band that Tony had given him, he made sure both of his Lordship rings were prominently visible, not hidden like they normally were.

He left their bedroom, finding Tony in the main room of their private suite. They weren’t here all the time, Tony traveled frequently for Stark Industries and Harry liked to accompany him. At least when they were here they had their own creature comforts and a private pair of floors, below them being Tony’s private labs. He had left one of the rooms well sealed and insulated but bare otherwise, for Harry to use as a meditation room or whatever he wished. Harry appreciated the gesture, just one of the many small things Tony did that showed how the man didn’t really care that he had magic, it was just part of him.

After the disdain, fear and shocked awe that had followed him for most of his life, being treated as just a normal person was incredible. Tony understood him more than anyone else, he knew how much it meant to be just Harry. Not the freak, the boy-who-lived, Undesirable Number One or any of the other titles that had followed Harry for most of his life. Being just Harry, or Harry Stark, husband to Tony Stark, was a weight off his shoulders.

Tony looked up and spotted him, eyes widening at his appearance. “You know,” the man commented, “most of the wizarding attire looks entirely strange to me. That though,” he smirked roguishly, “that I wouldn’t mind seeing on you more often.”

Harry could not have stopped the flush that crept up his neck and into his cheekbones if he tried. No matter how long he had been with Tony, the man had away of getting under his skin and making him blush in embarrassed, flattered surprise. He had never considered himself to be very attractive, at least not compared to the walking perfection that was Tony Stark. Seeing and realizing how much he affected the other man was a continuous series of pleasant shocks.

Tony chuckled softly, walking over to him and taking his face in his hands. He placed a gentle, barely there kiss against Harry’s lips and murmured, “I love the fact that you blush so easily, beloved.”

Harry kissed him back, letting it linger on for a moment. Softly, barely loud enough to be audible, he said, “I love the fact that you love me, all of me.”

Tony smiled, the expression gentling the sharper, colder lines of his face. He’d been on his own for so long that he’d fallen back into his public persona aside from when he was around a select few people. It had once again become his shield, his way of hiding himself from the world. Even now, with Harry in his arms again for a couple months or so, he found himself doing it unconsciously.

It was something Harry would have to work on again, softening the sharp edges and the hardened walls that kept people at bay. He couldn’t help but quietly curse Howard Stark again as he stood there, resting almost nose to nose with the man’s son. If he was half the man he had tried to be, his son wouldn’t have grown up feeling as though he had to hide his true self from the world. He wouldn’t have had to grow up with a hard exterior shell against the slights and belittling comments that tried to break him down.

Tony pulled Harry into his arms, resting his chin on Harry’s head. Harry quietly grumbled at the move, knowing that his husband did it only to point out his superior height. It was a little teasing move he made once in a while; one Harry had never begrudged him despite his grumbling. He doubted he would ever be able to verbally confess it, but he liked the fact that he could be tucked in so firmly against his husband’s body, wrapped up in his arms. It was a security he’d never felt before he’d started dating Tony, knowing he could _relax _and someone else would pick up the slack.

“Ready to go?” Tony said quietly into his ear after a couple of moments. Harry let out a deep sigh, some of his tension creeping back into his shoulders. He didn’t want to deal with this. He felt like a coward, but he didn’t want to hear the truth from Ron’s lips. He didn’t want to know what the boy he’d considered his first friend really thought of him.

“I guess,” he muttered softly, reluctantly. He resisted the urge to clench his fingers, not wanting to mar the sophisticated, polished image his husband had put together. It was a simple deep navy business suit with subtle black vertical stripes, polished black shoes and a sharp white shirt, but as usual Tony managed to wear it like it was one of his Armani tuxedos.

“Hey,” Tony said softly, placing a finger under his chin and lifting it so their eyes met. “It’s going to be okay. That asshole is going to get what’s coming to him and you will be surrounded by people who actually care about _you,_ not what you represented. And I know you’re mad and Hermione and Percy, but you can’t really stay mad at them.”

“Oh?” Harry said archly, beginning to frown.

“Nah. You’re like me, they’re your Pepper and Rhodey. They’ve pissed me off a fair few times and I’m sure I drive them nuts, but you can’t hold a grudge against them to save your life. I’m the same way, I guess I’m lucky they don’t take more advantage of it.”

Harry huffed. “Why do you have to be so logical?”

“One of use should be,” Tony responded with a shrug, quirking a grin at Harry.

Harry laughed, shaking his head at his husband. Tony was irrepressible.

He was lucky he had him.

* * *

Deep within the Magical Congress of the United States of America, the current Madame President could feel a headache beginning to form. She was in the Department of International Affairs, trying to hold her patience with the Minister for the backwards Ministry of Magic in the United Kingdom. She had unfortunately had the _pleasure _of interacting with Cassius Thornwhistle twice before in her five years as head of the Magical community in the United States. First had been just after her election, the man offering his ‘experienced advice’ to the newcomer, avoiding a complaint about misogynist behavior by a hair.

The second occasion had been far less pleasant. The man had discovered that Harry Potter had taken up residence in the U.S., demanding that she hand him over. She had taken great pleasure in telling him, politely, where he could stuff his demands. Harry Potter had been given unanimous political immunity and citizenship by herself and her committee, attempting to arrest him would cause an international incident and she knew the last thing that the Ministry wanted was to have the case brought before the International Confederation of Wizards.

They would have been fools to refuse Harry Potter the safe haven he sought on just the basis of his magic alone. He was, without doubt, the most powerful wizard alive today, perhaps even more powerful than some of the greats in magical history. But more than that, Constance Picquery knew what a Dark wizard was. Her grandmother Seraphina had been President during the whole Grindelwald fiasco, she had made sure her family all knew what a ‘dark wizard’ actually was. Of dark wizards, Harry Potter was not.

Currently, Minister Thornwhistle was blustering on about having one of his Aurors tied up like a common criminal, said Auror being Ronald Bilius Weasley. “You have no right to have him tied up here, like some kind of murderer or thief! He’s a respected member of the Ministry of Magic’s Department of Magical Law Enforcement and I demand you treat him as such!”

Next to Constance, American Auror Holly Bridges rolled her expressive blue eyes in exasperation. Constance wished she could do the same, but sadly it would be seen as uncouth, a political and personal offense against one of her equals. Instead she pursed her lips, narrowed her rich brown eyes and said coolly, “To us he is a criminal, Minister Thornwhistle. He is accused of breaching the Statute of Secrecy on American soil, something that we take very seriously.”

“The Muggle he was speaking to admitted to knowing about the magical world prior to the conversation!” Cassius protested angrily. “That negates the accusation and demands his release!”

“Are you trying to tell me how to handle my own country’s affairs, Cassius?” Constance let a bit of anger creep into her voice.

The man shook his head, not speaking.

“Then I would politely request you hold your tongue,” Constance snapped, earning a grin from Auror Bridges. “We shall begin presenting our case against your precious Auror once all parties are present.”

While Cassius was quietly spluttering in indignation, muttering angrily to his advisor and the Aurors he’d brought with him for ‘support’, a page slipped into the room and ran over to Constance. Bowing his head in a quick show of respect, he handed her a piece of parchment with a note on it and then left the room. Constance merely flicked her eyes over the note, already anticipating what it said. The rest of the people they were waiting on had just been checked through security. Punctual, that lot. She appreciated it, dealing with Cassius for more than a strictly necessary amount of time was exceptionally wearing on her nerves.

It was not more than five minutes before the doors were swung open and a party of five entered the Department. Constance recognized all of them but one on sight, the red-head that resembled her current thorn in the side. Interesting. Even more interesting was the look of absolute betrayal on her prisoner’s face when he saw the man, who looked merely resigned.

For a person having been missing for almost five years, Harry Potter looked surprisingly well, to her relief. Constance had not had much interaction with the extraordinary young wizard, but the few times they had interacted had impressed on her that he was down to earth, intelligent, loyal and exceptionally humble, downplaying his efforts in anything he did. She had seen the tasteful article that their paper had written on the wizard’s marriage, she was glad for him.

Constance had never met Tony Stark herself, but she certainly knew of him. Any American citizen would have heard of the multibillionaire inventor, certainly with his recent exploits in a solid metal suit of his own design. Constance was what the British population would call a ‘pureblood’, but she had been raised by modern-minded parents who made sure that she was comfortable in both worlds. For a man with not a drop of wizarding blood in his body, Tony Stark had accomplished some exceptionally impressive things in his short lifetime.

Both Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy were familiar to her as well, at least through reputation. She knew Hermione a bit better than the Lord Malfoy, the brown-haired witch had been the one to open discussion with MACUSA about giving Harry safe haven while he had temporarily resided in France. On the Lord Malfoy’s property, unless she was very much mistaken.

Cassius chose that moment to interrupt her musing. Spotting Harry, he raised his hand and dramatically declared, “Arrest him!”

Smartly, the two Aurors that had accompanied the Minister did not move. Constance bit her tongue to restrain her initial response, eyes flashing. “Are you going for a really spectacular incident here, Minister? Or do you not recall that he has a protected status here in the States and is considered an American citizen? More than that, I dislike you attempting to order people around in _my_ domain!”

Cassius’ cheeks reddened, the color only deepening when he heard the short, sharp chuckle Constance’s words evoked from Tony Stark. The British Minister eyeballed him angrily, but wisely kept his mouth shut. Constance almost wished he hadn’t, she’d heard that Tony Stark’s mind and wit were exceptionally sharp when it came to people he regarded as fools.

“Madame President,” Harry said with a warm smile, stepping forward and offering her a courtly bow before taking her hand in greeting.

“Lord Potter-Black,” she responded, smiling. “It is good to see you, and in such good health. We were worried about you after your disappearance, I am sorry we were unable to contribute to an earlier rescue.”

“No apologies necessary,” Harry replied in swift assurance. “All things happen at the right time, or so I have been told. While it was a long time away indeed for me, I am glad to be home.”

Looking to Tony, he smiled as the man walked forward and said, “May I introduce to you my husband, Tony Stark? Tony, this is Constance Picquery, the Madame President of MACUSA for the past five years.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” Tony said, flashing her a quick trademark smile. He was famous for them and now Constance understood why. Having that personality and sensuality directed at you was potent indeed.

“I believe you have met Hermione before, though it has been some time. She is here as the co-CEO of my companies and my sister-at-heart. Here as support as well is Lord Draco Lucius Malfoy. Last but not least my legal advisor and lawyer, Percival Weasley.”

“Mr. Potter’s legal advisor should not be allowed for this questioning,” Cassius jumped on the name. “He is Auror Weasley’s older brother and can be considered biased.”

The man now identified as Percival narrowed his eyes. “I can assure you, Minister Thornwhistle, that I have taken every vow and oath necessary for my position as barrister. I have gone further than that and taken those required by MACUSA as well and can readily state that I have no bias towards or against the accused in this case. I also remind you, Minister, that it is _Lord Potter-Black_ you are addressing, not ‘Mister Potter’, and if you intend to continue an insultingly familiar form of address, the correct form would be ‘Mister Potter-Stark’ or ‘Mister Stark’ as my client has taken his spouse’s surname.”

_Ouch._ Constance internally winced at the verbal flaying Mr. Weasley had offered Cassius, even if it was one he had thoroughly deserved. Really, having to point out the correct political action for a practicing politician? The man was embarrassing his government with his childish, churlish behavior.

“Well met, Mr. Weasley,” she said to him.

“Madame President,” he bowed as Harry had. “Please, it is Percival, or Percy if you prefer. Mr. Weasley still makes me look over my shoulder for my father.”

“Now that all parties are present,” Constance said, “we can begin. First I invite in our court scribe and official questioner.”

Once these two were brought in and seated, the rest of them took their seats around the room, circular in shape. There was a single seat two rows lower than them in which Auror Weasley was restrained. This room could hold twenty people comfortably, twenty-five at max.

“Auror Bridges, state your name, age and rank for the record and then present your testimony,” Constance ordered, once they were all seated.

“Holly Ann Bridges, Senior Auror on the American Secrecy Task Force, thirty-one. Four days prior, I was here in the MACUSA main office, filing paperwork. Our monitor on the Statute of Secrecy filed a ‘Code Red’, which is a direct breach of the Statute of Secrecy in front of a Muggle. I grabbed Auror Thomas and we Apparated to the coordinates. Upon arrival I saw a man levitating a tea cup in front of an individual without a wand. I shot a Incarceration Hex at him while Thomas disarmed him.”

“The individual with the wand is the prisoner before you, identified as Ronald Bilius Weasley. The man he was performing the Levitation Charm in front of was Tony Stark, the property belonged to Stark Industries. While Mr. Stark is aware of magic thanks to his marriage to Lord Potter-Black, his employees are not aware and the magic was performed in front of several surveillance cameras.”

Holly took a breath and then continued. “Normally Mr. Stark’s security cameras are manned by magically unaware No-Maj, but since he was speaking to Ronald Weasley, a known magical, he had his advanced artificial intelligence take over the footage. Also, upon investigation, we were able to confirm that the accused, Ronald Weasley, did not register with MACUSA as a visitor on American soil, as is required for any magical from a foreign country.”

“So, we have a possible breach of the Statute of Secrecy on American soil by a British national who was not legally in our country. If this is how you run your Auror force, Minister Thornwhistle, you may consider me unimpressed.”

Glancing at Ronald, Cassius stated, “As you said yourself, Madame President, it was only a _possible _breach of the Statute, prevented by this Muggle’s advanced technology. Certainly it is not worth the effort to continue this investigation.”

“The investigation has been completed,” Constance replied sharply. “While Mr. Weasley did not breach the Statute of Secrecy on our soil, he was in the country illegally. We are going to question him now on his purpose for being on American soil. As this is a security breach, we are authorized to use Veritaserum without consent under the Treaty of Peace of 1945.”

Cassius shot to his feet. “I do not authorize the use of Veritaserum! This is ridiculous, you are trying him as if he is a major criminal, not someone who forgot to sign a slip of paper!”

“I would like to remind you, Cassius,” Constance said icily, “that I am the Madame President of the Magical Congress of the United States of America. Not only am I authorized to use our laws against _your_ citizen in protection of _my _citizens, but I would kindly remind you that you are on foreign soil and have no authority here. Your protest is noted and overruled. Should you wish to continue blustering, I would be more than willing to summon a representative of the International Confederation of Wizards here now and explain what is going on.”

Cassius sank into his seat, face pale. His pale blue eyes flicked nervously again to where Ronald sat, watching all this with reddening features and anger in his eyes. Anger, Constance noted, that was squarely focused on Lord Potter-Black. Cassius did not want Ronald questioned, that much was clear. But why?

Looking to the tall, thin man who was waiting on the floor near Ronald’s chair, she said clearly, “Administer the Veritaserum. Court scribe, note the date and my name and titles as authorization for this questioning session.”

The official questioner, a man who had been with her law enforcement for a number of years, approached the silent, struggling wizard. He held up his right hand, showing them all the sealed new bottle of Veritaserum procured for the trial. He broke the seal with ease, grabbed Ronald’s lower jaw and forced his mouth open, pouring just three glistening drops of the potion inside. He then released Ronald, backing up as the potion took immediate effect.

Ronald sagged in his bonds, the ropes being the only thing keeping him in his chair. There was a lax, vacant expression on his face and in his blue eyes. He stared straight ahead at the wood paneling that lined his row, not blinking. The complete relaxation and lack of response that Veritaserum brought on was always unnerving to witness the first few times. Constance had seen enough trials in her five years and her political career before becoming President to be unaffected.

Only once Ronald was completely under the effects of the potion did he flick his wand, removing the silencing charm that the Aurors had to place on the man. Apparently he’d been spitting foul, vicious insults and slights against Harry Potter and the American Aurors ever since he was brought in.

“What is your name?”

“Ronald Bilius Weasley,” the red-head answered blankly.

“Where is your normal residence?”

“The Burrow, my parent’s residence.”

“How old are you?”

“35 years old.”

“Did you register when you visited the United States?”

“No.”

“Why didn’t you register? You knew it was the law, correct?”

“I knew it was the law, yes. I didn’t register because I didn’t want my presence here to be tracked.”

“Why did you not want us to know you were here?”

“Because I was going to tell a Muggle about Magic.”

“What is the name of the one you intended to reveal magic to?”

“Tony Stark.”

“Why did you want to reveal magic to him?”

“Because he was married to Harry Potter. I figured he didn’t know about magic if he was with Harry Potter. Anyone who knew what he was and how dangerous he was wouldn’t want to be with him.”

Constance was sickened by what she had heard just so far. At Ronald’s latest words, she was not surprised to detect the slightest of flinches from the Lord Potter-Black. Sitting next to him, his husband wrapped a hand around his and murmured something lowly in his ear, getting a tight smile from the wizard.

“What do you mean by how dangerous he is?”

“Albus Dumbledore told me just before we began our fifth year that Harry Potter was not supposed to survive his final confrontation with Voldemort, he would die. He told me there would be a power void in the wake of his loss, one that I could step into as his loyal best friend. But instead he survived, more powerful than Dumbledore according to some blokes in the Ministry. He was a danger to everyone around him with that much power, there was no way he wasn’t tainted by having a piece of the Dark Lord’s soul in his forehead for sixteen years.”

Constance stared at the man, unable to comprehend what she had just heard. She’d heard of Albus Dumbledore, of course. He’d been the one to finally defeat Grindelwald all those years ago. According to British wizards and witches that had met him, he was a kindly old soul who acted more like a grandfather than an important political figure and Headmaster to Britain’s premier school of magic.

Constance was close enough to the Lord Potter-Black to feel his magic beginning to surge. His jaw was clenched and his dark green eyes were darker than normal, almost black. Stark wrapped an arm around his waist and whispered rapidly in his ear, trying to calm him down. Constance watched him struggle for control, feeling for the wizard. She could not imagine how this was affecting him, hearing all of this from someone he’d once considered a friend.

The Auror questioning Ronald cleared his throat and said, “How long had you been aware of the goings on with Dumbledore and his plans for the Lord Potter-Black?”

“I was first approached by Dumbledore before our second year. He enlisted my help and that of my mother to keep Harry humble and ignorant of his family titles. He said it wouldn’t help the war to have Harry embroiled in wizarding politics, or to know how wealthy he actually was. We were also to ensure that he did not attempt to communicate his family abusing him to any authority, wizarding or Muggle. He impressed this last on us, said that it was necessary for Harry to go back to them every summer to keep him pliable.”

Cassius Thornwhistle had his eyes closed, sitting back in his seat. His posture was just shy of defeated, as if he knew he had already lost but didn’t want to admit it. Constance was glad his eyes were closed, it meant she could glare at him as furiously as she wanted and he wouldn’t see it.

“You said Dumbledore had said that Lord Potter-Black would die at the end of the war and he survived. Were there any contingency plans made for that occasion?”

“No. I had to take matters into my own hands. At first I was just going to let things lie and stay at his side, he was powerful and respected. But then he also turned out to be bisexual with a preference for men, ruining my mother’s plans. She wanted him to marry my sister and make her a Lady, elevating my mother from poverty. My sister found out about the plan and had a massive row with our mother. She left home and I haven’t seen her since.”

“Then Hermione Granger decided she was too good for me. She was a Muggleborn witch, she should have been grateful that I decided to take interest in her. Disgraced or not, I am a pureblood and would have elevated her status. But she had ambitions and plans and didn’t want to be with me. Harry sided with her and I was furious. At the time I thought that he’d been trying to split us up from the beginning, wanting her for himself. We fought and he hit me with a Disarming Charm so powerful I landed in our family’s duck pond.”

Constance, disgusted as she was, felt her lip twitch in amusement. Even under Veritaserum, clearly loathing Lord Potter-Black, Weasley couldn’t help but admit how powerful he actually was.

“So I got with Cassius Thornwhistle, a fellow pureblood. He’s a former Slytherin, normally I wouldn’t have bothered to try and work with him just for that. But he had influence in the Ministry and in some pureblood circles. I convinced him that Harry Potter was dangerous and needed to be executed for his own good and our safety. Somehow, on the eve of having enough support, Potter found out about us and fled the country, taking his money and titles with him.”

“We were furious, his wealth had only grown since he had the Black title as well and the Blacks were practically royalty amongst purebloods. We intended to line our pockets a bit and put the rest towards ‘reparations’ when we seized his estate upon his death. Cassius had been elected Minister, so he put out the order decrying Potter as a war criminal and an unbalanced dark wizard, calling for his arrest and execution if he set foot in the United Kingdom.”

Cassius had his eyes open again, a resigned expression upon his face. Upon catching sight of Constance’s dagger-sharp glare, he flinched. His career was over and he now knew it.

“Potter had fled to MACUSA and gotten political immunity and citizenship there. We left the standing order in place and waited for the right opportunity. About six years ago I was approached by some individuals who wanted my aid. They needed a way to study magic, said they had become aware of it and had an individual with powers, but they couldn’t control their abilities. The man’s name was Strucker, he said the organization he worked with was called HYDRA.”

Potter-Black had gotten exceptionally tense, jaw rigidly locked as he stared, unblinking, at Weasley. All of Potter’s party were looking warily at him, in fact. Constance closed her eyes momentarily, realizing that she was about to become aware of something private.

“Immediately my mind went to Harry Potter, who was in a relationship with Tony Stark by then. We couldn’t touch him, but I could get him to where we could. One of our sympathizers is on his board at Noir Enterprises. It was easy to convince him that we needed Potter out of America and on preferably European soil. They set up a meeting in Geneva, Switzerland and insisted that Potter had to attend. He agreed, sending our sympathizer his flight plan via private jet for assurances.”

“I immediately passed that on to Baron Strucker, who managed to sneak one of his people on the plane as a co-pilot when they landed in New York for refueling. That pilot then forced the main pilot to land the plane in Iceland, stating that they needed to do some quick de-icing on a wing or something. We were waiting for the plane to land on the airfield.”

“The moment the plane was on the ground the Baron’s man threw a specialized grenade into the main compartment of the plane. It was full of some muggle chemical called chloroform. Potter was startled by the grenade and went to put a Bubble Charm up so that he could breathe. I blasted open the plane door and threw a concussion grenade, simultaneously throwing a overpowered Stunner. He dodged the grenade only to get hit full-on by the Stunner. He was _still _conscious somehow, enough to watch me put a boot heel to his wand and break it. I kicked him in the head to finish the job.”

“To keep Baron Strucker and his men from being detected, I Apparated them and Potter to the mainland, to one of their safehouses. Then I returned to the airfield, dragged out Stark’s pilot and shot him, dumping him behind the hangar. I used a Muggle gun to deter authorities from suspecting magical aid. I returned to Strucker one last time to give him the magical suppressors that he would need to keep Potter prisoner. After that I went to Thornwhistle and assured him that it would only be a short amount of time before Potter would be dead.”

Finished with their questioning, they reapplied the silencing charm and administered the antidote to the Veritaserum. Constance stared at the prisoner, unable to comprehend what she had just heard. He had sentenced his former best friend to torture, experimentation and likely death for what, money? Recognition?

Turning her blazing blue eyes on Cassius Thornwhistle she said icily, “Arrest him.”

Her Aurors acted immediately, putting the man in cuffs before he realized what was happening. His own escort stepped away from him, horrified. “What!” Cassius bellowed in rage. “What do you think you are doing, you idiot _woman?_ Acting with your heart instead of your head? Don’t you realize how dangerous that man is?!”

Eyes still blazing, Constance answered him. “If you mean yourself and Weasley by that, then yes I absolutely realize how dangerous you are. You can keep your misogynistic complaints to yourself, better yet, appeal them to the ICW! I would love to see you laughed out of court. You are under arrest, Cassius. You can bid your position as Minister of Magic goodbye. I am putting you both in the hands of the ICW and expect to see your arrest and execute on sight order for Lord Potter-Black rescinded by the end of the day, let alone the week!”

Once the two men were pulled from the room she turned to Harry Potter and his party. Spotting the rigid anger in his green eyes and feeling his magic swirling around her, she clicked her tongue. She took his hand out of Stark’s, putting him in the center of the room. Escorting the others to the edge closest to the door, she reached out and tapped a rune carved into the wood. Immediately, powerful wards sprang up between them and Lord Potter-Black.

“Have at it, Harry,” she said simply.

For a second he remained still and silent, chest heaving as he attempted to draw in deep breaths and calm himself. A second later he opened his mouth and _screamed._ The sound was full of magic, lashing out. The tiers of wood around him disintegrated to splinters instantly, as if they’d been compressed under great pressure. The sound was still going, warping metal and cracking the stone under their feet. Constance could feel the magic slamming into the wards and attempting to rip them apart with sheer force. The wards held, barely, as magic became visible, washing up the wards in a shine of gold and green and black, hitting the outer walls of the room which groaned under the pressure.

Abruptly it stopped, Harry falling onto his knees. The silence was deafening after the release of magic and sound, leaving them all panting a little. Harry had his face in his hands and his shoulders began to shake. Constance shook herself when she heard someone clear their throat. It was Tony Stark, looking pointedly at her ward. Constance reached out a shaking finger and tapped the rune, cancelling the wards.

Without hesitation Stark crossed the ruined mess of wood, metal and stone to where Harry was kneeling in the center, the only clear spot in the room that had been inside the ward. He dropped onto his own knees as well, not worried in the slightest about his expensive suit. Instead, he drew Harry into his arms, wrapping them around the slender wizard’s waist. Resting his head on top of silky, slightly wild black hair he closed his eyes, shutting out everything else.

Constance stared at them both for a long moment, awed. They truly completed each other and she was happy for them both. Today had been an unbelievable day, shocking was just not strong enough a word. Today Harry had learned the truth about someone he once considered a friend. Today, worlds had been shaken. But finally, closure was at hand. She was glad she could offer that much to a wizard who asked for so little in return.


	18. Civil War Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is shorter than I wanted, but this chapter was fighting me. Ugh. But now we really start branching away from canon, with Pietro alive and Wanda in prison. Lagos, with a different new Avenger. Some of the twins' history, from Pietro's perspective as well.
> 
> Words: 2,316  
I don't own Harry Potter or Marvel/MCU. They belong to their respective parties, I'm just having fun with them :D.

He had not realized how _busy_ the world could be. Every day the multitudes poured out onto the streets, hurrying through their day like a massive hive of bees. It was overwhelming in a way; his senses were being slammed into like he had hit a brick wall at high speeds. Not just the noise, but the sounds and smells and the way everything seemed to be moving around him in nothing more than a giant blur. He closed his eyes for a brief second, reorienting himself.

Pietro Maximoff sat near the corner of a busy street market, watching the people around him warily. To keep from standing out, his normally very pale white hair had been dyed to a dark brown, the color kept catching him off-guard when a strand would float into his eyesight. He resisted reaching up to touch the earpiece and make sure it was anchored in his ear. He knew it was, he had double-checked the fit just before leaving the vehicle parked down the way.

Pietro wasn’t worried in the slightest about being able to get to his vehicle in time, he was faster than any car thanks to HYDRA’s experimentations. His life had been strange so far, not unlike the observations he had made here in Lagos. It felt, looking back, that he’d hurried through his childhood to reach that fateful day when a defective missile had crashed through the walls of his childhood home. His parents had died instantly, but he and his sister had been trapped, both fearing that the slightest move would jostle the massive weapon pining them in place and it would go off.

It was his sister that had fixated most of all on the name plastered the side of the missile. ‘Stark’. Once they had been freed, Pietro had just wanted to get his life back to a semblance of normal, or as normal as he could get being an orphan in the war-torn country of Sokovia. They had done what they had to in order to survive, Pietro was not proud of that part of his life aside from the fact that he had survived it. His sister though, she had fixated on the one she thought was responsible for all of their problems. Finding out about Tony Stark had become her obsession.

It was Wanda that had been first approached by HYDRA, lured in by the promise that they could give her the power to make the ones that had hurt her _suffer._ She had come home to the warehouse they had been hiding in, eyes alive with glee. They could stop having to hide, she promised, and they would be able to actually live and not just survive. Once he’d realized that there would be no talking Wanda out of her decision, Pietro had agreed, not wanting to leave her to do this thing alone. She was his family, all that he had left.

By the time Pietro realized that HYDRA’s words had been lies, it was far too late. Connected to all kinds of wires and needles all over his body, shackled down to a medical bed next to his quietly seething sister, Pietro had felt the same panic that he had as a child. The _agony _that had followed as the power from a malignant, shining staff had been forced through his body could not be described or equaled. He was not ashamed that he had passed out from the pain, he saw it as a relief.

He learned later that his sister had laid there awake, even smiling through the whole procedure. Between screams that tore at her throat and biting into her lip to stop the cries, she had even been _laughing._ It had taken a couple of weeks for his sped-up metabolism and enhanced physical speed to manifest. It was a month before Wanda had begun to show her abilities, picking up a guard who had been taunting her and throwing him into a wall without laying a finger on him.

While Baron Strucker had been excited at his abilities, the possibilities in Wanda had made him ecstatic. He regarded her like a snake charmer would his favorite serpent, aware that he could die but still reveling in his control over her. Wanda’s abilities frightened Pietro. Unable to practice on anyone else, she had begun practicing her control over the mind on _him._ He hated it, hated the terrified pain of having her force her way into his head and play with his thoughts and memories. Directing his body like it was a puppet on strings.

She hadn’t been able to fully control her abilities for some time, much to the Baron’s frustration. Pietro vividly remembered the day the man’s frustration had turned to outright glee, watching with wide eyes as HYDRA soldiers fought to subdue a dark-haired man who seemed to have much of the same abilities as Wanda. They had eventually managed to subdue him between vicious shocks with cattle prods and hitting him in the head.

He had been chained down to a bed the same way they had, multiple needles inserted into his skin as they withdrew blood and other things, taking what seemed to be a dangerous amount. Wanda had watched it all with a dangerous smile on her lips, an unhinged pleasure in her eyes as she watched another suffer. Then they had taken the man away and Pietro assumed that he’d been killed and dumped somewhere.

Wanda had been injected with numerous shots of a pinkish-white fluid, behaving for the most part as she would occasionally wince when some of the needles were injected into her face, neck and spine. Whatever the fluid had been, it gave her full control over her abilities, which made Strucker enormously pleased. They had dragged something into the room, that something revealed to be the man from several months back. Pietro had been sickened by his condition, he had obviously been tortured repeatedly and kept barely alive, his ribs were clearly visible and there were open wounds all over his body.

Wanda had repeatedly ‘practiced’ her mind control abilities on him, entering his mind and attacking it. Pietro had backed into the corner of their cell and closed his eyes, covering his ears. Seeing the man’s face as Wanda had projected visions in his mind and then withdrew, alternately leaving him screaming in rage or sobbing in grief was too much. She’d also been allowed to practice her physical attacks on him, his screams of pain rang in Pietro’s head for hours afterward.

Pietro shuddered. He loved his sister still, always would. But he was not so lost in his love for her to know that she was better off locked up. Her powers were bound and she would never leave the Raft, General Ross’ specialized floating prison. He was lucky to not be in a cell next to her, but the man his sister had been attacking turned out to be a generous individual, one who realized that the Maximoff twins were not one and the same. He had gladly taken Harry Potter’s offer of protection against his sister’s abilities, gaining a sad, knowing smile from the other.

Now he sat here in Lagos, watching a street corner as he listened to his famous teammates with a never-ending sense of awe. He had never imagined, in his wildest dreams, being on the same side as the legendary Captain America and Black Widow. Steve and Natasha, as they firmly reminded him. They were people before they had become heroes, they constantly reminded Pietro. If the superhero was taken away, they would always be the person underneath.

Up on a rooftop was Sam, known as Falcon. Pietro had not known him as much as he had Steve or Natasha, but he liked the man. A former military paratrooper, he’d used the high-tech and innovative EXO-7 wings for his country and now, the world.

“They’re here,” he heard, straightening up.

“Rumlow?” Steve asked, his voice intense, focused.

“Armed caravan, at least two vehicles, half a dozen men in each,” Sam confirmed from the roof.

“Take them out,” Steve ordered. “We know they’re here for a biological weapon, they must not leave with it. Watch your fire, the people that work at this facility are all civilians.”

“On it,” Natasha confirmed, coming into Pietro’s sight as she headed for a motorcycle parked across from the café she had been sitting in front of.

“Pietro,” Natasha’s voice came over his headset, a brief chime before notifying him that they were in private mode. “Stay where you are. If this turns into a foot chase we’re going to need your speed, at the moment you’re centrally located and can reach most locations in seconds.”

“I will,” he promised, feeling a bit bitter. His first real mission and he was backup only.

As if she’d heard his resentment, Natasha said, “I know this isn’t what you want to do, but please resist the temptation to come join us. You are a valued member of this team, being where you are is the most helpful right now.”

“Understood,” he replied, feeling a bit better about it. Of course Natasha would understand his desire to get out there and prove himself, also help back up the people he’d come to regard so highly. They had given him a second chance when he didn’t deserve it, he would always be grateful for that. But it warred with the fact that he was only nineteen years old and staying behind felt like being a toddler on a leash.

He listened, remaining poised to move as soon as it became necessary. It seemed like it was only a few minutes later that Natasha barked, “Pietro, lock on to my location and get here pronto! Rumlow passed off his prize to one of these two men, we need to find it before they get away.”

He stood up, adrenaline racing through his body. Heart racing, he pulled out his phone and looked at the GPS marker for Natasha, orienting himself so that he was facing in the correct direction. It was into the street market he’d been on the corner of and he frowned worriedly, there were an awful lot of civilians. Taking one last look at the GPS to get Natasha’s general direction he put his phone away, stepped away from the crowded sidewalk and launched into motion.

He only heard a couple of surprised cries from those around him before he reached his peak velocity, the part of him that always felt the most alive. Where everything around him dropped into slow motion as if time had paused, enabling him to easily dodge and weave around the people in the crowded market. In the space of a few seconds, he’d covered half the ground. Ducking under a lady with a loaded fruit basket and dodging around some kids playing soccer, skidding past their ball and nudging it into the opposite goal, just for fun.

He zipped past a few more pedestrians as he heard Sam in his ear, “My guy doesn’t have it! I’m empty!”

Spotting Natasha’s tan jacket and the man who was pointing a gun at her, he raced past her and took the gun out of the man’s hand, dumping it in a nearby basket of blankets. He slowed down, time resumed its normal pace and Natasha locked her legs around the man’s neck, using his momentum to slam them both into the ground. Pietro winced; glad it wasn’t him she was pulling that move on. His hand slammed into the ground and a small phial flew out of his hand, launching into the air. Natasha punched the man in the temple, knocking him out, then rolled over onto her back and shot out her hand. The phial landed firmly in her grasp.

“Nice catch,” he panted, earning a quick grin from the woman.

Hearing screams further down, he raced towards the sound, reaching Steve Rogers just as he was thrown into a wall and barely avoided having his face cut up by a small, sharp blade. His opponent wore heavy armor and a solid metal face mask with just a couple of holes for his eyes and one for his mouth.

“This is for leaving me to die in that blast,” the man snarled, going to punch Steve in the face with his other blade extended.

Steve jerked out of the way and grabbed the base of the blade, ripping the entire gauntlet-like structure off of Rumlow’s wrist. He quickly disabled the man and ripped off his mask, pausing.

Rumlow’s face was cracked and pitted, outright melted in places from extreme heat. Lips curling into a cruel smile the man spat, “What, can’t look at your handiwork, _Captain?_”

“You’re done, Rumlow,” Steve panted, staring at the man. “We stopped you from taking the biological specimen to make your weapon. We’re taking you in now.”

“That’s what you think,” Rumlow hissed, a demonic smile curving his lips. “You’re not taking me alive, and I’ll take you with me.”

Only then did Pietro notice the grenade he had in his hand. He raced forward, but the man had already activated it. Shoving Steve back into a wall, Pietro grabbed Rumlow by his heavy armor and raced for the edge of the market. Realizing he wouldn’t have enough time to get clear, he launched the man forward and skyward, hoping for the best.

The explosion and following shockwave were immense, dropping civilians to the ground where they remained for only a moment before getting up and running away, screaming. Pietro stared, wide-eyed. When he’d launched Rumlow, he’d done his best to direct the blast away, but the sheer size of it had taken out the corner of a nearby building, bringing debris crashing down onto a section of the market.

_What have I done?_


End file.
